Resort Town
by Alternative96
Summary: The cast resides in a crappy town with a VERY small population. Most infer that there's no drama to be found in this quaint little town. They'll be proven wrong. Rated M for sexual situations and swearing.
1. An October Day

**A/N: This story flashes between Duncan and Gwen's perspective. Duncan's is in third person, and Gwen's is in first person (shit, sounds stalkerish). :) **

**I'm not updating, however, until my other TDI story is completed. I just wanted to release this as some sort of a "sneak peek"…lol. Enjoy.**

_.oOo._

He woke up at about six in the morning. School was in half an hour. His alarm clock snapped his eyes open to some Metallica. He shut his alarm off, yawned, and checked his phone. One missed text from Courtney.

"_hi, dear!!! 3 watsup? DxC 8.29.093"_

She was pretty preppy, hence the relationship date thingamabob at the end of the text. Her haunting signature. The one that made him want to hide. But, he thought she was hot, so he passed her preppy behavior by as a "girl thing".

He texted back, _"nm."_

"_can you help me get votes 2day?"_

"_UGH NO"_

"_please? :("_

"_NOOOOO."_

"_:O dammit just help me, it wont kill you"_

"_it does kill, cortny. IT KILLS ONES SOCIAL STATUS."_

He turned his phone off. She would drag him onto this stupid school-president campaigning thing anyway, or else it was break-up for sure.

_.oOo._

I walked to my bus stop on a gloomy October morning. I was getting texts since dawn from Trent, my boyfriend. I lived in a small resort town named Wildwood – it was on the southern Jersey shore. It was a small town with a smaller population. During the summer, it was packed with tourists that didn't want to gamble in the nearby Atlantic City. However, during the other seasons…it was barren.

On my way to bus stop – the town integrated the middle and high school since the population was so low – Trent called.

"Gwen, hey. What's up?"

"Hi," I smiled. "I'm just walking on to class."

"I'm leaving right now."

We lived in West Wildwood – it was a tiny little island on the other side of the bay that separated it from the rest of the city. It was only maybe four city blocks across, and seven blocks down until you hit a small beach. It was a very small beach, not like those large beaches on the state coast. There was also a small playground and three parking spaces. The others were behind the nearby saloon. Yes, alcohol and children's playgrounds…a very smart combination. And, since this goddamned state's driving age was seven-fucking-teen, we had to walk everywhere while the dicks in Florida were probably laughing their asses off at our poor selves.

Soon, enough, I heard loud, rushed footsteps come up to me, grab my hand, and spun around in front of me. "Hey," he greeted me with his perfect, white smile.

His hair was messy – he aspired to be a rock star, he _never_ took care of his scruffy hair rather than wash it so it wasn't all greasy. I fixed his hair and said, "Straighten your hair, would ya?"

"But it's _naturally_ straight," he teased. "It doesn't get all poofy or curly…I'm _lucky_."

We walked towards the bus – desperately wishing for our license as we stood in the autumn chill. When the bus arrived – sputtering, as if it could break down at any second – we boarded it, sat around in the back. We talked for the course of the ride until we arrived at the school. I dragged my hand across the sandstone brick until I saw the white, plastic table sitting on the lawn. Courtney McDormall – the class prep – was sitting on this folding metal chair, giving buttons to whoever would take them. Her criminal boyfriend, Duncan Ryans, sat next to her, looking totally uninterested with whom he was with and what he was sucked into doing.

I knew him – he hung out with me during the classes we have together. Maybe it's because we both look rather morbid. Either way, he was cool. He wasn't annoying, preppy, or Hollister-obsessed like everyone else in this town. I walked up to him, Trent trailing me, waiting for me to leave and go inside with him.

"How's the campaign trail?" I asked, grinning. He looked up from his phone and half-smiled.

"Shitty," he answered. In response, Courtney whacked him with her binder.

"I won't win with _that_ fucking attitude!" she exclaimed. They soon got in an argument.

"You're not even _leading_, nobody's going to vote for you, goddammit!"

"Yes they _will_. The school will _crumble_ without someone as reliable as _me_ as their student president!!"

I interrupted them. "Hey, stop it. You two like each other. And you _know_ student president gives you almost no authority."

"Yes, it does. You are the decision maker of the class!" Courtney persisted.

Trent gently tugged on my shirt, silently pleading for us to leave.

"I'll see you two later."

Duncan half-smiled again, and I spotted him get up from the table, leaving his girlfriend to campaign in solitude.

* * *

My job after school was working at the local, year-round, highly successful pizzeria, Mr. E's. It was established in the thirties, and in the sixties, remodeled into a 50's theme. It was "family friendly". It used to be "Mr. Ed's," but ever since the old show about the talking horse premiered, they shortened it to "Mr. E's."

It was either that or the pizza place near the Catholic school. However, the only difference between the two places was _big_. During these months, business was slow. What does a girl, and her best friend, Bridgette, going to do when business is extremely lagging?

Two words: arcade games. It was between _Star Wars_ pinball and _Ms. Pacman_. We chose Mr. E's, home of the only _PacMan_ machine within a two mile radius.

We served pizza to old people and bored teenagers. Today's shift…was less than pleasant. Bridgette was working at the cash register, and I was waitressing. The popular clique – Lindsay Lockfern and her idiot boyfriend Tyler Smith joined with Heather Tolt and Justin Rockford.

I gave them their pizza – I wanted to taint it with garlic powder, but Bridgette urged me not to. I put it on the table and mumbled, "Here…"

"What?" Heather asked, looking at my homemade _Black Veil Brides_ pin, with "Andy Sixx!" written in silver permanent marker. "Are you all alternative now?"

They laughed. I looked around and asked, "…alternative to _what_?"

Lindsay added, "Everything."

I rolled my eyes, added two extra dollars to the check (I didn't care if I got fired), and told them to finish up soon. They laughed at my attempt at assertiveness, and left after they finished their food. I then turned to see Duncan talking to Bridgette.

_.oOo._

He stared at Bridgette. He thought she was like Courtney – only without the high ambitions and the tendency to annoy the living shit out of everyone around her. Sure, she was a local surfer here – she visited the local surf shop like it was going out of business.

"Hey," he greeted her. "What's up?"

She looked at him, trying to act like this behavior was normal for him. "Hey, Duncan. What's up?"

After an awkward pause, he asked, "If I break up with Courtney, do you know anyone who'd be interested?"

Hopefully she considered being that one.

To his disappointment, she pointed to Gwen. "Gwen is like you. Maybe if things suck with Trent, you can _swipe_ her off her feet."

He looked at her. She was walking with a dead expression on her face. She was always…grim.

"I like someone exuberant," he said about her. "She's okay as some sort of acquaintance."

"She can be exuberant," Bridgette said defensively. "She's just bored."

He shrugged and said, "No…isn't she emo?"

"No!"

"Sure she isn't."

"That's fucking rude!"

Turning to the soda fountain, he sighed. "Whatever. Forget it. I'll take a Coke."

She sighed, got him the drink, took the five dollar bill he gave her, and give him back the change. "Good. There you go. See ya."

He rolled his eyes, and left.


	2. Grave Mistake

.oOo.

"Goddammit! I said no!"

Courtney and he were in yet another dispute. This was over the Halloween Dance that was being held the upcoming week.

"Please? C'mon! You know I'm on the friggin' student council, and I spent a _lot_ of time planning it!"

He paused. She sounded really, _really_ pissed off. "Fine. Fine, I'll fucking go. As _long_ as I don't dress up."

She sighed. "Fine. Fine, it's a deal."

He heard the smug smile in her voice.

.oOo.

Trent and I finally decided to go to the Halloween Dance. We decided to go, due to the fact we needed some time to hang out with our friends. I mean, it would've been better if it were scary – y'know, with blood dripping from the gymnasium walls and an awesome vampire mansion theme. That would be a dance I would fully enjoy.

For the dance today, I was wearing a classic vampiress outfit. Trent went as – what else? – my fellow vampire.

We entered the gymnasium. It wasn't like "scare-the-living-shit-out-of-you" Halloween. It was a friendly, rated-G thing. Lame. The pop music that was playing was even worse. Trent and I spent the evening leaning against a wall talking, until I looked towards the right. Courtney was trying to pull Duncan out onto the dance floor.

I innocently shuffled closer to hear the conversation. Trent wasn't aware of my craftiness.

"Come on, I love this song!" she exclaimed giddily.

"No thanks," he yanked his hand away.

She pouted. "Come _on_. It's my favorite song. Can you spare one dance?"

He sighed. "Know _what_? I'm done."

Her pout turned into a full-out frown. "What?"

"This was _doomed_ from the start. We are just polar opposites. Who the fuck ever thought we'd last?"

She started to tremble. "I did…"

"Well I _don't_."

I watched Duncan walk out the door. It's not my place, but I decided to follow him. I told Trent that I had a headache from the music.

"Want me to wait with you until your dad makes it?" he asked, concerned.

"No thanks, it's fine. You have a good time."

He sighed, nodded, and turned to his friends. I rushed out the door and towards Duncan who was digging his keys out of his pockets.

"Hey," I exclaimed, catching his attention. "Sorry about Courtney."

He shrugged, throwing gum wrappers and other shit from his pockets onto the concrete. "Don't be. She's an overprotective ass."

I walked up to Duncan and said, "Come on…you _clearly_ made a mistake."

He picked up his keys, and pressed the unlock button. A pair of headlights flashed in the distance in response.

We talked for a bit, and even though it sounds Dr. Phil-like, I think we somehow bonded. You know when like, you have one conversation and you're like "That's it! He's officially awesome!"

That was _just_ like the moment. But, afterwards, instead of the expected, "You're right, I'll give her another chance"…he asks, "We've got an hour and a half until the stupid dance is over…care to join, m'lady?"

I smiled. Playing along, I smiled, "My honor, m'lord."

I got in his car, until something dawned on me. He was only sixteen. He was a year from his license.

"Don't you _only_ have a permit?"

"Fuck law enforcement," he smiled mischievously.

We drove to the skanky soda place near my house. It was owned by some creep who lived on the second floor of the building. The place sold soda, expired chips and train sets. I am _not_ kidding. We then drove to the Wildwood Crest beach and drank the sodas there. Afterwards, I asked, "Wanna go on the beach?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

I took one step outside of the car. I felt the cold rush of air on my skin, and asked, "Do you have a jacket or something?"

He took his hoodie off – revealing his black V-neck shirt and black leather cuff. I took it, thanked him, and wore his hoodie – a black Nirvana hoodie with "_Nirvana_" written down the left sleeve in yellow, and their signature yellow smiley on the front.

We walked towards the now abandoned lifeguard stand. We lied there for a few moments, talking quietly. That's until we kissed.

It wasn't a cute little peck on the cheek, yet it wasn't a total, messy make-out, either. Afterwards, stumbling on words, he offered innocently, pointing to the parking lot, "Um…how about we go back to the car…?"

I squeaked out, "Okay."

We hiked up to the lot, and when we sat in the car, we almost didn't know what to do. We sat there for a few moments until he leaned in and we started kissing again.

After it got really intense, I stopped kissing him altogether. Instead, I dragged him to the backseat.

I couldn't name _one_ time where I felt this way about Trent. But, what did Duncan have that Trent didn't? Good kissing skills, extreme juvenile-delinquent hotness, and cool piercings.

Three. But Trent had sweetness, talent, awesome eyes, a perfectly white smile, and he understood me like crazy.

Sure, I liked Trent more. So I felt so much guiltier when it came down to sex.

I woke up with Duncan _still_ in the backseat. My eyes fluttered open, and I immediately poked my head up like a meerkat from its burrow.

I shoved Duncan. "Duncan! We fell asleep! Wake up!" I exclaimed.

"What…wha…" he checked his phone for the time. "Oh…oh, shit."

He leaned up and checked the dashboard. No parking ticket. Okay, that's good.

He turned to me and asked, "Can you try to sneak into your house?"

"What's my excuse?!"

He bit his lip until his eyes lit up. "Call Bridgette! Tell her if anyone asks, you were sleeping over at her house, okay? Okay!"

I agreed, and dialed Bridgette. She coincided. When she asked why, I told her that I fell asleep in Duncan's car. No sex, no romance, no anything. Everything was hanky-dory-dandy…to her.

He drove me home as I fixed my hair so it looked like I _wasn't_ having sex and cheating on Trent all night.

He dropped me off, I kissed him again, and I ran inside. My mom was inside, tapping her foot. After one minute, she wrapped her arms around me. "Where the _fuck_ were you?! I was worried out of my skull!!"

"At Bridgette's," I answered.

I heard my dad's voice from the back patio. "She's back?!"

"Yes, hon," my mom answered back.

She looked at me. I was still in my costume. My cape, however, was torn (stuck in a car door) and the corsets were looser than they should be.

"You look so…disheveled," my mom commented, pulling her blonde hair out of her eyes. "What happened?"

"I didn't have pajamas," I shrugged. "I didn't mind sleeping in my costume."

She sighed. "Okay, I'll…take your word for it. But never again!"

I nodded. My dad came in, sighed in relief, and exclaimed, "Where _were_ you? Why didn't you call!? We were worried out of our _fucking. Minds._"

"Bridgette's," my mom answered for me.

I nodded, and walked to my room. We lived in a condo – one floor. Two bedrooms, two baths, a living room, kitchen, and a patio overlooking the backyard. However, the backyard was shared with the huge family below (this is their summer home, though) and the business owner (he owned a fudge place) upstairs who has a young son named Jerry. It had an outdoor shower and a clothesline, but nobody used the clothesline. Out of natural paranoia, nobody trusted anyone else.

However, once I walked in my room, I locked the door. With a shuddering sigh, I rushed to the bathroom and decided to think (maybe cry) about this whole situation in there.


	3. Morning

.oOo.

He was parked outside of his house. He didn't want to go in; he just wanted to wait outside forever until dusk arrived so he could ask Gwen out again. However, the kid was starved, and he had absolutely no money. Might as well go in and get something to eat.

He got up, stretched, and walked into the old house. It _was_ old – two stories, shingles falling apart, the white siding stained here and there. Not even really two stories, but one story that contained a bedroom, bath, kitchen and den. The second story was the attic – his sanctuary. Today, he would just go into the kitchen, say "hey" to whoever confronted him about his late night shenanigans, grab some sort of Tasty-Kake, swipe _Insecticide _from on top of the stereo, bring it upstairs and just…relax.

Sure, it was two o'clock. Sure, he fucked a girl and slept in his car for a whole night in a public parking spot even though there was a seven hour limit. But he was still coming in casually, as if nothing happened. He entered his house to his distraught mother.

"Where the _hell_ were you for fifteen hours?!" she demanded.

He yawned and got a Hostess cupcake with his mom trailing behind. "I got tired, had a headache…couldn't drive, so…"

"Wait," she stared, and demanded, "You took _your car_?"

He nodded.

"You only have a friggin' permit, for God's sake!"

He shrugged, and shuffled through the CD's on the stereo. _Insecticide_ wasn't there. He settled for _Mellon Collie_. Walking up, he sarcastically asked, "Did I get in a car crash? Did I get pulled over? _No_. Everything is just so swell."

She sighed, and crossed your arms. "You're damn lucky your father's out or he'd have your head."

"Pfft, okay," he rolled his eyes, not really concerned. Once upstairs, he got to his room – since it was the attic, the room was sort of a triangle shape, rather than the classic rectangle. Posters covered the ceiling above his bed and on the walls near the dormer. They were mostly _Rolling Stones_ covers from magazines, or clippings of rockers from articles. He put the CD in his stereo, only to find out the second disk of the two-disk set ("Twilight to Starlight") skipped. He threw it on the floor, and listened to the stations on the radio. They were all static – Philadelphia stations were miles away, but he usually got a good one here or there. To his liking, he found one station playing _Situations_ – a song that was never heard on public broadcast, ever.

He checked his phone. Five missed calls, all from the same person – Courtney. She texted multiple times:

"_don't leave im sorry_"

"_call me. can we please settle this?_"

"_PICK UP YOUR PHONE._"

"_dammit pick up or you're NOT getting any of your stuff back!_"

(And by "stuff", she was referring to his copy of "_Iowa_" he left at her house mistakenly once. Since he hated the album, he never bothered to go back and retrieve it.)

"_STOP BEING SUCH A DAMM ASSHOL AND PICK YOUR PHONE UP!!!!!_"

"_pick. up. your. PHONE! Dammit ur bein such a fuukin coward abut the whole thing_"

"_fine. i guess its over….._"

He decided to reply to that last one. "_damn straight._"

.oOo.

I spent my shift at Mr. E's being nervous. Thankfully, the popular kids didn't show up again – that would only fuck up my chances of not having a random spasm in the middle of the joint.

Bridgette looked at me and asked, "Okay, why were you _really_ out of your house?"

I laughed nervously. "Fell asleep in Duncan's car. Pssh."

"No, that's a stupid excuse," she laughed. "You were probably over _Trent's_ for the night…what were you really up to?"

I froze. "Can…can I tell you after our shift's over?"

"Sure, sure."

She called over to Noah – he saw himself as the manager of this here facility, even though he was far from it. He was just the bossy, yet somewhat lazy type. He planned to avoid every obstacle with his natural smarts.

"Noah, can you take over our shifts?" Bridgette called.

He sighed and asked, "Where the _hell_ are you two going?"

"We didn't do our homework," I lied. "It's tough. We're just not…as smart as you are."

He was skeptical, yet flattered. "…if that's the case, then fine."

I smiled, and shut the door behind us. We walked towards the surf shop – desolate at this time of year, but still open. Customers were a small amount of intellectual surfer people stocking up before it got crowded with tourists when summer began.

"Why are we here?" I asked.

"It's totally empty…" she said, then turned to the counter. "Hi, Geoff!"

"Hey, Bridge," he smiled back. Oh, I get it. Geoff was Bridgette's not-too-bright, surfing cowabunga buddy, who she has a massive crush on.

"Okay," I sighed. At this point, I wondered why I never talked about it on the way here.

Stupid me.

I whispered the long story in her ear about _everything_. She was absolutely shocked.

"But you can't tell_ anybody_!" I exclaimed.

"B-but…why the fuck did you do that?!" she asked.

I shrugged. "All in the moment."

She sighed, and looked around, her eye now set on a white surfboard with imitation blue paint splatters. Might as well not "loiter" in a surf shop. She looked at it, checked the price, and then checked her wallet. Sighing, she asked, "Can we stop at my house?"

"Why?"

"My board is shit compared to this. _I need it_."

I grinned. "Okay."

* * *

Bridgette's house…_oh my God_. I met her in second grade, and we bonded. The first time I ever went over was in fourth grade. And I was astounded.

It's fancy as hell. It was across the bay from West Wildwood. It was a huge building, but separated into two to support two families. Her family was wealthy and large compared to mine – she had two sisters and a brother. Her brother Nick was thirteen, her sister Emma was seventeen, and the eldest sister Patricia was twenty-one and in college. Their house had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a huge fancy kitchen, a really nice, bright den and the best backyard in the history of the world.

They had a small in-ground pool they took pride in. Right now it was covered, but in the summer it was clear and bright as anything. Walk a bit further past that and you reach the dock. The had a small boat their dad took out once in a while, just to entertain guests as they _ooh _and _aah_ as if being on a boat is some religious experience (however, once I rode out on it, I have to admit it was awesome as hell). He only liked riding in this small bay, so it wasn't equipped with advanced fish-finding-technology or satellites or anything.

But the real reason I love this house is for the awesome two-person kayak Bridgette and Nick got for Christmas, and the crappy little rowboat they've always had. Oh…and the _trampoline_.

Yes. They were filthy _rich_, I swear. They had this fucking trampoline that was inflatable, hooked onto the dock. The point was, you could bounce on it. And after you get some air, you hop into the refreshing water below. That thing was like a floating Jesus on water (pun intended). I always looked at it when I was in kindergarten, before I met Bridgette, from across the bay at the shitty little "park" (a sliver of grass with benches and a flagpole between two big houses, yet they lacked the trampoline I desired), feeling enough envy to dye my skin green forever.

But, since winter fell upon this town, everything was temporarily shut down. We went inside, I said hi to Bridgette's parents, and to her little brother that was watching reruns of _Family Guy_ on the "local" Philadelphia station (many outsiders believe our radio waves are from Atlantic City, but fucking Philadelphia – which is a two-hour drive from here - is where we get our broadcast).

We went up to her room, where she had the nicest balcony ever – it looked out onto the bay, and I could even see my condominium. It wasn't like, "Wow, it's so tall I can see Delaware," since my condo is actually nearby. Distance-wise.

Plus, my building is four stories tall – ascending, there was the garage, the big family, my family, and the fudge guy. Not hard to miss.

She got some money she had stored. "Four hundred. Got it."

"Jesus, do you spend anything?" I asked.

"Yeah," she shrugged, "but rarely."

We rushed back off to the surf shop, discussing the I-slept-with-Duncan-and-I'm-now-clueless-on-what-the-fuck-to-do situation further while we walked, and when we got back, she bought the surfboard. She then turned to Geoff to ask, "Can you sell old surfboards here?"

He nodded. Bridgette smiled, and we spent an hour lugging it back home. Until…

.oOo.

"Dammit, Hayley Williams, nobody likes your emoness anymore!"

Switching between rock stations was a bore. They were either Guns N' Roses (he hated them, Axl Rose is a dick) or Paramore (too emo for his standards).

He decided to just plug in his iPod and listen to _The Nameless_ by Slipknot. Driving, he spotted Gwen with her hands in her pockets and Bridgette carrying a shiny surfboard. Being oh-so courteous, he pulled over. "Gwen!"

She turned and smiled. "Duncan! Hi!"

"Uh…you two want a ride?"

Gwen nodded. "Sure, thanks!"

Bridgette nodded, and followed. The ride went off fine – not much conversation, except for the talk of the dance and Noah being a dick (Duncan was aware of it, too). The kid had some weird attraction to Bridgette, even though she hated him with a deep passion. Maybe if she knew that, work wouldn't be so much of a pain.

Duncan, on the other hand, was unemployed. He spent most of his time laughing at the oddities Wildwood had to offer, or vandalizing the back of the supermarket. Oddities included Catholic bookstores, hermit crab shops that sold shells with anarchy symbols on them and people who were so proud of their heritage they covered their car in Irish or Italian flags (contrary to popular belief, the Irish Festival was the one with the larger attendance).

He dropped Bridgette off at her house, and then he drove in front of her condominium place. Before she went inside, she kissed him for a while, and then finally left him in the car lovestruck. After a moment, he finally shook himself out of it and continued driving back home.


	4. Studying

**A/N: New poll! VOTE IN MY PROFILE AND YOU WILL GET A PROFILE! :D**

"So, are you going to break up with Trent?" Bridgette asked as I clutched my books.

"Yes," I answered. "I can't handle this anymore."

I saw Trent at school. "Hey, Gwen!"

He called and approached me. I sighed. I have to do this, I have to break up with him.

"Oh…hi, Trent." I said, trying to look positive. I failed at that. I bit my lip, stumbling over words. "Um…uh…can I talk to you? Privately?"

Concerned, we walked to the side of the school.

"Yeah?" Trent asked, looking at me with his poor, deep emerald eyes.

"I…" I started stumbling again. "I…um, well…I like your hair today."

I couldn't do it. I couldn't dump him. He's so…perfect, stuffed with qualities that made me ooh and aah.

He started fiddling with his black hair and laughed, "I did nothing different."

I nodded. "Well…it's sexy as hell."

I passed by Courtney, who was campaigning by herself. However, she had her long-time pal (the one she promised secretary position) talking to her. His name was Tom.

I spotted Duncan leaning against the school, texting. I turned to Trent and said, "Hey, I'm going inside."

"Okay," he nodded and checked the time on his Razor. "Damn. Hey, I don't want to be late. Mind if I go talk to Geoff?"

I shrugged. "No problem, go ahead."

He walked over towards Geoff who was just coming up around the corner.

I caught Duncan's eye, and invited him inside. He was obviously confused, but he followed me in anyway.

Once there, I watched for possible snitches/witnesses. Once there, were none, I grabbed Duncan and dragged him in the nearest supply closet. I slammed the door shut, and started kissing him. After a while, I whispered, "I. Fucking. _Love. You_."

"Did you dump Trent?"

I paused. "I couldn't."

"Just say, 'fuck you, I'm done'."

"…it's not as easy as it is for you."

"Just…just do it soon."

He kissed me for one last time, and left the closet. After a moment of staring after him, I finally left. I somehow avoided Trent the whole school day, and when I got outside, I walked up to Trent.

"Trent…" I hesitated. "I'm sorry. It's not working out."

He stared in disbelief. "I thought…what happened? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm _so_ sorry, it's…it's me. I'm going insane, I have so many things to juggle, and…and I can't do this anymore. I'm so fucking sorry…"

And I dashed away, leaving him to stare at me in bewilderment.

.oOo.

Study buddy.

It was the surefire excuse to let his parents take someone of the opposite sex up into his attic. She trailed him up the spiral staircase near the back of the house up to a small space. In front of you would be a coat rack, like a closet (behind that was spare sheets, blankets, and other stuff for guests that came over looking for a place to stay during the summer months). To the right was the door to his room. A massive _I Set My Friends on Fire_ poster was on the door that read, "FOUR YEARS FOREPLAY". Sure, it was intended to be a parody, but it was the only ISMFOF poster ever manufactured.

He let Gwen inside, and she looked around, impressed. "Better than my room. It's like, all white walls. Fucking bright."

He smiled, and shut the door. He almost locked it, but that seemed like too big of a move to make. She kept looking around, mostly at the little things he overlooked, from the posters to the type of wood his desk was constructed out of.

.oOo.

One Kurt Cobain poster on the ceiling, a Metallica one next to his bed, a small Beatles one near his desk, and an Escape the Fate poster near the dormer. Mahogany desk. Black-and-white comforter, blood red sheets, and "Fucking Metallica!" carved into the backboard.

After I finished scoping the room, I turned to Duncan and commented, "Nice. I like it."

"Thanks," he nodded, and I started kissing him. Soon after, we stopped, but our foreheads were still touching when he asked, "Did you dump Trent?"

"Yep," I nodded, and started kissing him again.

When things got heated, we heard someone coming up the steps. Duncan stopped kissing me, and turned to his desk. He grabbed his textbook and opened it to a random page.

Soon enough, his dad came in, and I just rushed over towards the desk.

"What are you two studying?" he inquired.

"Uh…" he glanced at the title of the page and meekly answered, "Um…scientific equations?"

"What?"

After a pause, I said, "Exactly…that's why we're studying it…because we have no idea what it is."

His dad slowly nodded, suspicious. After he left – not remembering to close the door – we just stared after.

"Um, okay…" I said, tilting my head a bit in confusion. In an attempt to rekindle the moment so rudely interrupted by his fucking dad, Duncan shut the door again. He had enough brains this time to lock it. Afterwards, we simply started talking – not deep, planning-our-future talking. Just about music and all that shit. I sat on his bed, and I felt something attempt to claw my ankle. It only caught my jeans, but I felt it scratch against my leg.

"Shit!" I yelped, and stood up.

He looked at me and asked, "Jesus. Do you have, like, Tourette's or something?"

"_No_, something tried to scratch my ankle!"

He sighed in exasperation, and dragged the bed out. Underneath was a black cat.

"Damn it, Satin!" he exclaimed.

"Satin?" I asked, looking at the cat as it glared at us.

"Yes, my mom's evil fucking cat," he sighed. "It claws _everything_…destroyed my pillow once…well, yeah, it's a damn annoyance. I call her Satan sometimes."

"I see," I nodded. After a pause of just looking at the cat as it scratched the mattress, I asked, "Can I pet her?"

"I wouldn't," he said, as he stretched his sleeves over his hands. He then picked it up as the cat attempted to slit his arms open, and dropped it outside his door. Satin tried to hang on so she could stay and ruin his furniture for just a while longer, until he gently shook her off. She landed on all fours, and he shut the door. The cat shuffled its way down the spiral staircase. I expected the thing to cry and meow until it got back in here – apparently each cat has a differentiating personality.

He locked the door again and exclaimed, "Okay. Everything is fucking out of the way, we are perfectly _alone_."

"Finally," I smiled, even though this whole interrupting-thing was honestly annoying.

We kissed – I mean, _studied_ – for a bit more, until I left. This time, Satin didn't leap onto my jeans.

I came home to a distressed call from Bridgette.


	5. Surf Boulevard

**A/N: Woot, woot! That 70s Show Reference Ahoy! XD**

"Gwen, he told me he's going to get some new Hollister stuff for his birthday."

"So? What does Geoff's clothes have to do with you?"

"Not the Hollister! That place is expensive as hell! I'm talking about his birthday! I want to get him something…"

"So? Get him surfing stuff."

"At the store where he works? Of course not…"

"So what will you get him?"

"…something you can't get anywhere else."

I thought long and hard, until something hit me. A street sign! Not those novelty ones that had your name on it. Fresh Wildwood ones! Our street signs were shaped like palm trees (because it's a resort town and everything). We'd steal one, give it to Geoff, and he'll say, "Gee wilikers (or something along those lines), this is the best present ever!"

"We'll steal him a street sign."

"Which one?"

I thought. Pacific Avenue, Glenwood, Maple View…no, they wouldn't work.

Surf Boulevard! That's _perfect_! "Surf Boulevard!"

"Gwen, that's a major street."

"So fucking what! We'll take it at like, two in the morning! The town is totally asleep by that time!"

She sighed. "Fine. We'll be bad. But only for Geoff. But how do we do it?"

I paused. "I'll talk to my bad-boy…boyfriend. Okay?"

"Sure, sure. He'll know what to do."

* * *

We got to Surf Boulevard. The town, as predicted, was quiet and almost dead. Duncan was unscrewing the sign.

"You almost got it?"

"Uh…yeah…" He said. Soon, the screws fell to the floor, and Duncan threw the sign in the backseat of the car, throwing an old blanket over it. He told us to act natural, like we were here fixing the car instead of vandalizing a street sign while he sorted out his equipment and hid it from sight. On second thought, he decided to put the street sign in the cargo of the car, in the floor compartment under his dad's toolbox (he often fretted about potentially breaking down in the middle of the road).

"If they ask, say 'I dunno'."

We nodded, and innocently stood there for a moment as he stuffed the equipment in the toolbox, and put the street sign underneath.

"Now let's get the fuck out of here."

On the way home, Bridgette dug out the sign, and was looking at it with an expression that just screamed, "Holy shit, I can't believe we did this."

She looked at Duncan, who was station-searching on the radio. She asked timidly, "Um…are you sure Geoff will like this? He's not much for…vandalism. He's sweet."

"If it says 'surf' on it, he'll be all over it."

"What if he doesn't like it?" she still asked, worrying.

I turned back to her, and said, "How about you, like…have dinner or something?"

"Surf shack," Duncan snickered. I punched him in the arm, warning him to shut up.

"Then give it to him there." I finished.

Bridgette nodded. "Um, okay…that'll work…thanks, you two. I couldn't think of anything else to get that wasn't…surfing equipment. Or a party mix CD."

Duncan sighed. "Then…then why didn't you make him a damn CD?"

"Because I don't know what kind of music he truly likes. He may have not liked that, either!"

He sighed. "Okay, then…"

We came up to my house first, and so I went up to my condo. My parents were – thank God – asleep and unaware of my late-night vandalism.

.oOo.

"So…you're a couple now."

"Yeah, we are."

"That's nice. Gwen didn't really see much in Trent."

He could tell she was lying, but he paid it no mind. What business did she have in his social life, anyway?

"…yeah, she did."

"No. Not really."

"You're lying. She had trouble dumping the kid…"

In the midst of arguing, he accidentally missed the turn. "Dammit!"

He turned around, the trip length now doubled. Just _wonderful_.

After a brief pause – a pause he took as his victory – he asked, "Did you even want the sign?"

She held it tighter – protectively – and nodded. "Yeah, I did…thanks."

He shrugged. "No problem, just keep it out of sight."

She nodded again. "Gotcha."

He pulled up to her house under her direction. He examined the outside and came to this conclusion: "Holy shit, that's your fucking house?!?"

She laughed. "Yeah. We bought it mostly to house our relatives coming over during the summer months. Nothing more."

"Holy. Fucking. _Shit_. My place is a fucking cardboard _box_ compared to yours."

She giggled again. "Oh, God."

With her street sign clutched to her chest – she made sure nobody knew what it was – she shut the car door and waved goodbye. He waved back, and pulled out of the drive.

He had to get home soon.

* * *

It was now four in the morning – he stopped at a 7-11, got a Slushie, and drank it in the car alone, texting Bridgette (since Gwen sent him back a rather furious text saying she was asleep) until he decided to go back home.

He snuck back home – not tip-toeing, since the floor would creak. But he wasn't running, either. He was being careful with his footwork. It was all going well until _Satan_ started meowing, clawing at his jeans to signal his arrival.

"Dammit, Satan!" he exclaimed, and picked up the cat, no matter how much it thrashed and yowled. He put the thing under the couch – it was her favorite hiding spot, because it was dark and a good place to hide until it came time for the "attack" (which was trying to gnaw one's ankles).

The cat, to his relief, stayed quiet. He continued walking up, and rushed into the attic. He got in his bed immediately, in case his parents heard and went upstairs to question him.

Thankfully (and surprisingly), they didn't.

* * *

"Thank you so much, Duncan!"

Bridgette was beaming next Saturday at Mr. E's – the day after Geoff's birthday.

"He loved it! He said it was illegally amazing!" she exclaimed. "Thank you for stealing it for me! I can't thank you enough!"

"Well, it was Gwen's idea."

"But _you_ were the one who did it for me! And he even asked me to go out with him! It's _perfect_! Thank you so, so, _so_ fucking much!"

I smiled as she was giggling and happy. "Okay, um…glad you're happy."

"I'll do fucking _anything_ to repay you! I'm just so happy!"

He thought for a while. Nothing came to mind, really. Bridgette was preppy, sporty, and too witty. He was lazy, and equally as clever ("Touché, Bridgette!"). He _was_ athletic, but he didn't put his strength to use in sports. He put it into running from cops.

"Nope. Nothing much."

"Well, I really owe you." she winked – playfully, not flirtatiously – and said, "Anything you want, I'll do it."

He nodded, and watched her gleefully go back to work.

**A/N: Ooh! Does Bridgette like Duncan? Or vice versa? Will I stop asking questions to keep you reading like they do on bad reality TV? Stick around…**


	6. Bonding

id"I don't want to, but I have to. We've been planning it for months."

"San Diego? Seriously?" Duncan begged. "It's three thousand fucking miles away!"

"We've been planning it forever…it just sort of came out of nowhere." I sighed. I didn't want to leave for California. At least, not now. Not when I was in the process of falling head-over-heels in love. And not for a whole fucking week.

.oOo.

"What's up?" Bridgette asked over the phone.

"With Gwen gone, I'm _so fucking bored_."

He was lying on his bed, his left arm hanging over the side of his bed, letting Satan claw at it all she wanted. So far, he had four deep cuts on his hand, two on his wrists, and a few superficial slashes on his arm.

"Oh, me too…" she sighed. After a pause, she asked, "Hey, since we're both totally bored without Gwen…do you want to hang out? Geoff's sick, so…I have no plans."

_That_ caught him off guard. Seriously – they were total opposites. He accepted the invite anyway.

* * *

The day was filled with lighthearted conversation while walking down the abandoned boardwalk until their feet were sore. It was mostly snickering at the stupid stuff here, or going to the all-year-round shops that were open. They stopped at a place where they sold potato chips on a stick (they weren't crunchy like potato chips, they were more like very thin fries), and then at some surfer shop. And, mostly for their entertainment, got the ugliest hoodie they could find (badly ironed-on "Li'l Wayne for President").

"You don't _really_ like Li'l Wayne, do you?" he asked, holding his black one up to further worship how terrible it was.

She had a white one. "Fuck no."

She then turned to him and said, "We should like, dress up as gangsters one day. Just to piss off the school's aspiring rappers."

"You mean the cokeheads? Definitely."

"Duncan, are you kidding? They're too ghetto to afford real drugs!"

"…you're right. They probably huff Sharpies."

On the way back, he said, "Y'know, I've always seen you as…sort of an uptight sports fanatic…like, always wanting to be some sort of Olympian, totally dedicated to athletics. Like Rocky Balboa sort of training girl. Only with surfing."

She smiled, finding his somewhat-corny speech amusing. "But…you're not. You're actually…cool."

She laughed a bit. "Why, _thank_ you."

"No problem," he shrugged.

.oOo.

Kick. Kick. Kick.

The airplane flight in coach. I asked my dad, "Please, first class? It's fancy and quiet..."

"No, hon, it's expensive." He replied.

_Now_, I'm sitting in coach. Drinking my complimentary Sierra Mist as some rotten kid kicks the hell out of my seat.

I turned back to the mother and politely asked, "Can you please ask your son to stop kicking my chair?"

"Of course," she replied. I heard her gently tell the kid to stop kicking, and he did. But he also started crying.

"Oh. My. _God_." I muttered. The in-flight movie was "_New Moon_" – yippee.

I turned to my Mom and asked, "Can I stay in the bathroom where it's quiet?"

She shook her head, and turned back to the movie (to her, it was oddly engrossing).

It's going to be a _long_ five hours.

.oOo.

The two got to Bridgette's. Gwen was texting them both – she just landed in San Diego. She wasn't asking about their current activities, and they didn't think of mentioning it to her.

When they got to Bridgette's house – Duncan was once again awestruck – she asked, "Want to come in?"

"Sure," he shrugged, and followed her in. It was open inside. It was bright, with a sand colored carpet, white walls…gave it a summer feel, like every new house here. She gave him an impromptu tour – her parents were out taking care of their business (they co-owned a marina).

The final room was at the end of the hallway, with a _Panic at the Disco_ poster on the door. She opened the door and said, "Look about."

He took a meager step inside – she was _really_ hospitable.

"So? Like, hate, what's your opinion?" she asked.

"It's…open." He nodded slowly. A room with _Panic at the Disco_ and _3OH!3_ posters all over the walls wasn't his opinion of a likable room. But, he didn't want to be an ass. He went with it.

There was also the balcony, which overlooked the bay. He stepped outside, and looked to his right. A potted plant. To his left, there was a plastic beach chair and a small bucket filled with wet sand.

"What's up with the…?" he asked, his voice trailing off.

"Oh, I used to have a sand crab," she said. "Found him at the beach last summer. His name was Todd. But he died. Didn't care to clean it out."

"I see," he nodded, and looked down at the boats. Her eyes lit up.

"Hey, there's a sunken boat over near the bridge." She told Duncan.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's rusty. And old. You can even like, poke the steering wheel and stuff inside. Want to go?"

"Fuck _yes_."

They rushed downstairs and got in the rowboat. Duncan then asked, "Who's rowing?"

"I'll do it," she offered, and went towards the small bridge. People from houses stared at the random boat in the usually barren autumn bay.

After about ten minutes, they came to this old looking boat. Since it was low tide, one could even get out of the rowboat and get into the sunken one…if you were extremely daring. Smiling, Bridgette handed him an oar. After looking around – they found nothing interesting – Bridgette exclaimed, "We should see if the horn still works!"

Snickering, Duncan leaned over and tried to get the wheel with the oar. Bridgette bit her lip. "Okay…you're almost there! Come _on_, come _on…_"

Soon, Duncan leaned too far, and both him and Bridgette slid out of the boat. Their phones and all were still in the boat (which, thankfully, didn't flip over). They came to the surface, coughing, laughing, and throwing their oars back in the boat before they attempted to get their way back in the rowboat. When the ran out of energy trying, they climbed into the boat and stood in the cabin (there was only one inch of water). They were still laughing until they stopped, and they started kissing.

Afterwards, they stared at each other somewhat awkwardly, knowing that they totally did the worst thing possible.

"…what stays in the old-abandoned-sunken-boat, _stays_ in the old-abandoned-sunken boat." Duncan proposed.

Bridgette nodded her head. "Agreed."

They jumped out of the boat and checked their phones as they took turns rowing home. He bit his lip as he read all four texts he got while he was getting a _tad_ too comfortable with Bridge. Two were from Gwen, trying to get his attention. The other two were forwards that Courtney sent to him from Harold (never-had-a-girlfriend, Trekkie-virgin extraordinaire).

"_don't fuckin text me again. erase my number and all that bs. Just NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN_."

He turned off his phone, and walked home sopping wet. When he got home, his mom immediately gasped at the sight of him dripping water all over her "perfect carpet", yet walking in the house as if nothing happened.

"My God, what happened to you?" she gasped.

He paused, thinking of an excuse. However, all he could come up with was: "I got wet."

"Dry yourself off," she said, and then sighed. "Jesus, how do you _get_ wet as hell in November?"

"You…y'know, you…fall…" he shrugged, and rushed up to his room. Once he got there, Satin started clawing at his ankles again. To chase him off, he took off his shirt and dropped it on the kitten. The cat screeched and dashed out the door. He then felt totally alone. Gwen was gone, things were awkward with Bridgette, Trent was mad at him for dating Gwen and DJ…well, Duncan hasn't talked to him in ages.

It seemed so corny, but he grabbed an old notebook from under his bed (it had some tears from when the cat went at it) and looked at the first blank page. Well, what now?

He bit the tip of the pen, until he wrote, "_Dear...Gwen…_"

Okay. He'd just write a shitload of unsent letters to Gwen while she's gone. It'll keep him occupied.

"_Dear Gwen, you're gone…in California, I mean… and if you ever read this, I must be dead. Or you're looking around like the snoopy bitch you are. Kidding…_"

He wrote two whole pages.


	7. Hoping for a Worldwide Conflagration

**A/N: Review, dammit. I'm getting depressed lately and not getting reviews is pretty fucking detrimental to a writer's self-esteem. :\**

"Duncan!" I exclaimed, hugging him as soon as he opened his front door. I just got back from San Diego, and I was extremely excited to see him again. "I missed you so much!"

"How was California?" he asked as he gently shoved Satin away from the open doorway. She liked being outdoors, yet Duncan told me they stopped letting her do so after she gave his mom a dead robin as a "gift".

"It was blistering during the day," I answered, "but freezing at night. But the hotel was near the outdoor concert, so I listened to _Rain_ all week."

"Lucky," he sighed, and looked down at his sweatshirt. It said "_Li'l Wayne for Pres—" _wait, what the _fuck_? He looked at his shirt and said defensively, "Uh…I got this as a joke."

"Hope so," I said. I poked my head inside. I ignored Satin's glaring, and asked Duncan, "So. Are your parents home?"

He smiled mischievously. "They're in Atlantic City for the weekend."

I beamed. "Yippee."

I stepped inside, and Satin starting scratching at my fishnet stockings. I also wore a plaid skirt, black shirt, and a headband with a big red bow on it. Duncan once again shoved the cat away. The cat sulked away, and he shut the door. As soon as it was, we were kissing.

After a few hours of just hanging back at his place (until about five), he drove me back to my condominium. I glanced out the window, until I spotted this old-looking thing in the water. Rusty. Disgusting. I think it was some boat, but it was hard to make out. I asked Duncan, "Do you know what that thing is? Looks like a boat…"

He sped up a bit and asked, "What are you talking about? It's a _bay_, there are boats everywhere."

"I mean, the old one…" my voice trailed off when he turned the corner and I lost sight of it.

"Yeah, _no_ clue what you're talking about." He shrugged.

I sighed, and turned back to the road in front of me. We were soon in front of my condominium. I kissed him goodnight, and went inside.

.oOo.

_Dear Gwen,_

_I'm so fucking sorry. I'm SO fucking sorry that I hung out with Bridgette. I'm sorrier (is that a word? Fuck it, it probably is) for not telling you. I'm sorry for acting like I total dick. I'm sorry for lying, I'm sorry for everything with Bridgette._

He sighed, and dropped the book to the floor. He was sitting on the ledge of the dormer. It began to rain moments before he arrived home. If it kept up all night, no doubt that it would be flooded in the morning – especially since it was high-tide today. The light from the lamppost reflected off of the wet street. It also reflected off of his teal eyes – the eyes Gwen always complimented no matter the lighting.

He thought about her for a little while longer until he lied on his bed, eventually falling asleep.

.oOo.

I went over Duncan's house to "study" with Duncan again. We were up in his room, kissing, until he left to go lock Satin in the guest room (he was scratching at the door and crying the whole time). While he was gone, I found a notebook sticking out from under his bed. The title was "_English_". I picked it up, and started reading it. However, it was no English – they were letters. To me. At first, they were cute and sweet as hell. Then, the last one almost sent me to tears.

_He fucking cheated on me_. With Bridgette! My best friend, partner in crime, my cohort in "Operation: Annoy Noah To No Fucking End" at work! And my damn boyfriend! I felt like shit. Hopefully, on my way home, the world would be the victim of a huge conflagration. Maybe I'd feel better then. But I doubted even that. I took all my stuff and called, "Duncan, I have a bad headache…mind if I go home?"

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm sure. I'll see you later."

I left for home. During the weekend, I spent most of my time isolated away from everyone until school started. When I saw Duncan on Monday, I confronted him, refusing to make any eye contact.

"Hey…" I said to the floor.

"Gwen? What's up?" he asked.

"Um…um…" I stuttered, "Why…why the _fuck_ did you get with Bridgette?"

He froze up. "How…"

"Don't fucking ask," I interrupted. I didn't want to explain.

He paused for a long time. "I did it. And I'm so fucking sorry. But we haven't talked since, and we both…we both feel terrible. It was one mistake that we both feel like shit for making, okay?"

I bit my lip. "I'll think about it."

I walked away. The answer was yes, of course, but maybe because I'm desperate. Or maybe because I forgave him…yet I highly doubted it. Human emotions were fucking tricky.

That evening, I took off work to sit on my balcony, looking out at the backyard. I didn't even bother needing music. I just needed time to think. My dad came out and looked at me as I stared vacantly at the grass below.

"Hey," he greeted me. I turned towards him and wore a half-smile.

"Hi, Dad," I turned back to the ground.

"You okay, there? You've been up here for the longest time."

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine. Thanks."

"…are you sure? You seem so depressed."

"Thanks, Dad. Really. I'm great."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it." He nodded, and left. I grinned in acknowledgement, and dug out my phone. I texted Duncan.

"_hi_."

"_do u forgive me_?"

"_sure. but any more screwups and ur fuukin done._"

"_fair enuff._"

"_hooray. I love you_."

"_love you too. im sorry._"

"_ok._"

Of course, the time we spend after this little "adventure" would be beyond awkward. But, time will help (hopefully).

The next day, I went to work. I was quieter, yet aggressive. A cheating boyfriend does that thing to you. The popular kids came back and this time, when they were being dicks, I grabbed a handful of French fries and stuffed it in their soft drinks. Staring at them, and back at me, I stomped away. Bridgette asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks," I said, even though I wasn't.

"Why? What's wrong?"

I paused. "Um…I know that you and Duncan kissed, but…I'm over it. Really."

Her caring smile faded. She was scared shitless. "I'm so sorry. That was the biggest mistake of my life."

"I told you…I'm over it…" I sighed, and took out the next order to some teen couple I didn't recognize. Clearly, I was in denial.


	8. Skipping

The next day, I was horrified at what I saw at my shift. Well, at first I was glad – Duncan came over, and we settled things to the point where we were back at our boyfriend-girlfriend state. However, a few moments after he left, the popular clique came in with their newest recruit.

_Trent_.

I gulped when I saw him arm-and-arm with Heather. I avoided them as much as I could, and rushed to Noah.

"Noah! Can we switch?" I begged.

He sighed, exasperated. "Why?"

"My ex-boyfriend is out there with my worst enemy."

"Then suck it up and get back to waitressing!"

I growled and exclaimed, "Fuck you," then I put on the most sarcastic smile I could wear to go serve the…happy couple and their friends.

"Hey, goth girl," Heather taunted, "hands still sticky from yesterday's meltdown?"

Trent, to my relief, didn't laugh along. "It wasn't a meltdown. And, if you eat any more pizza here, you won't be fitting in your size negative-fours anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

"C'mon," I laughed. "I think the world knows you're a closet anorexic."

She sneered, stood up, and dragged Trent out by the arm. I sardonically called out, "Come again!"

When I went back to the kitchen, Noah stared at me in disbelief. "You lost us a friggin' customer!"

I shrugged. "I don't care. They're terrible people."

I heard Bridgette snicker a bit at the counter.

Around two o'clock, business was slow. I started playing Ms. Pacman, until I heard the bell on the door open. I turned to see Duncan. I smiled. "Hey, there."

"Hey," he smiled. I turned to Noah and exclaimed, "Bye bye!"

"Who's covering your shift?"

"I will," Bridgette volunteered and turned to me to add, "You owe me!"

I nodded. "Sure, sure, Bridge."

I left, threw my Mr. E's uniform on the car floor, and we drove to his house. His parents were back, but it was still no different from "studying". This time, we had sex. During daylight – it was such a faux pas in the world of intimacy. But sometimes it doesn't matter.

We locked the door – we were grateful that the cat didn't cry, and that Duncan's dad didn't "check up on our academic progress" – for a few hours. However, when I got home – still lovestruck – my parents were at the door. "You're _studying_, right?"

I bit my lip. "Yeah, why?"

"Because your grades are going down."

I looked at them in disbelief and they showed me the marks online. "You still have A's, but just…barely…"

"Oh." I was indubitably relieved. I thought they were going to reprimand me for premarital sex, which is pretty much worse than murder in the eyes of Catholic parents. Yet abortion is also looked down upon. To be honest, Christianity is a lose-lose kind of religion for me.

My phone in my pocket started buzzing. I took it out and looked at it. It was from Duncan and read, "_See you tomorrow?_"

I nodded, even though he wasn't watching. My parents stared at me as if insane. I looked at them, glared as if saying, "I'm not crazy," and walked to my room.

"_Surely. Love you._"

I closed the phone, and spent the rest of the night alone (by choice). The next day was a bitter December morning – ten days before Christmas vacation started. I saw Duncan that day, but apparently due to his recent straight-D report card, his parents decided that "studying" wasn't working.

When I was walking to Duncan's to skip school with him, I heard the squirrel-like, squeaky little voice I unfortunately grew accustomed to my whole life. "Hey, hottie!"

I turned around to Cody, the nerdy borderline creeper of the junior class. He honestly acted like he was a middle school kid. Cody was probably the kind of kid that giggles at the word "boob", shows of his Level 80 Charizards and cracks "69" jokes like they're going out of style.

"What, Cody?" I asked, trudging towards Wildwood Crest.

"Wanted to know if you broke up with your bad boy yet," he asked, eagerness in his voice.

"No, and I don't think I ever will," I told him, and snapped, "so give up your hopes of _ever_ getting laid."

"Whoa there! Whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_ there!" he said, grinning as if he couldn't keep it secretive. "Who the hell said I wanted to get laid? Pffffft!"

"Every teenage boy wants something sex-related," I said, and with a teasing tone, added, "unless he's gay."

He laughed again. "Only when I'm dead."

I continued walking, but he stopped at the corner that acted as a bus stop. "Hey, where you going?"

"To Duncan's," I answered.

"You skipping?"

I felt stares. Especially Trent's. He commented, "Ooh. Little juvenile delinquent."

I rolled my eyes. Not funny. "Whatever."

On my way over, I saw Duncan's car pull up. Apparently he was coming to get me. "Gwen! Hey, where do you want to go first?"

I smiled. "Hm. We'll do something in Rio Grande."

Rio Grande was the neighboring city. However, there were no houses or any of that bullshit. It was all stores. It was kind of like Wildwood's mall. But, yeah – there was a mall there, too. So it was like a shopper's heaven. We spent the first hour pressing all of the "Help" buttons only to run into the neighboring aisle to watch confused employees looking around for a few minutes. Then, we ran off to Wal-Mart and started havoc. We spent it giggling at the people buying ugly clothes, the poor fat ladies buying ointments, and stuff alike. Afterwards, we went to the movies to sit in the back and kiss. Thankfully, it was a nonstop action movie – lots of loud sounds, like screeching cars, flames, and screaming bimbos. So we didn't have to fret over somebody hearing.

We got out of the theater after school planned to end. I got a call from my mom. She immediately asked, "Where are you? You were apparently absent from school?"

I bit my lip and looked at Duncan. "Um…we both caught some sort of nausea. Because, you know…we're always with each other and all that. And I didn't want to walk all the way back home in the winter so I just stayed there. And I know how you and Dad have your jobs…"

"Um…okay? Why didn't you call my work number?" she requested.

"I forgot to punch it in my phone after I dropped my old one from my balcony." (It slid off the balcony, and shattered all over the concrete below.)

"Oh. Well tell me this kind of shit, okay?"

"Okay, Mom."

"See you when you get home."

I hung up, sighed, and sunk deeper into my seat. "Holy shit, that was close."

"Fuck yeah it was." He looked at me and offered, "Um…we should get home before your parents come to try to track the house down."

I nodded. "Good idea."

So, we drove all the way back to Shithole USA.


	9. Fuck Ups

I went home, sat around watching _Happy Tree Friends_ (a violent show recommended by Duncan) and my mother offered me some Tums to help with my sham nausea before the two left for a wedding.

I was trapped in my room listening to music when she giggled through the door, "Talking to your boyfriend?"

I froze. Did she know about the journeys in "studying", or adventures carousing through Rio Grande? I hoped not. "Why would you say that?"

"You've been spending a lot of time with that one boy," my mom pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah, we are." I blushed. "But we lack the title."

My mom paused for a while. "I was kidding…what happened to that Trent?"

"Oh, we broke up," I pointed out. "Just wasn't working out."

"What a shame," she said, and walked off. My parents grew a fondness towards Trent, which was odd. When a girl dates an aspiring rocker, they usually go against the relationship. Why? "Because he'll suck at music, his dreams will be crushed, and he won't support you after you get married in Vegas while you're seven months pregnant". That was Dad's warning. But then he found out Trent was smart, and immediately knew that he could support me if we got together.

However, I refrain from introducing Duncan to my parents ("Incredibly sexy delinquent boyfriend, meet my worrisome parents. Worrisome parents, meet my incredibly sexy juvenile delinquent boyfriend"). That would be awkward.

My parents then left and told me about the emergency numbers, blah blah blah. Then, I started looking around the house. Why not invite Duncan over? I decided to surprise him – not the slutty lingerie one that you always see in the movies. Maybe just a short dress I'll steal from my mom. I looked through her formal wear, and found a short, slutty black dress with a slit halfway up the thigh. I put on the dress with these tall stiletto heels, red lipstick, and a messy yet elegant up-do. I looked pretty, yet overworked. I decided that'd be the look I'll be going for. I called Duncan and offered, "My parents are out at a wedding. Want to come over?"

"Sure," I could hear him grin through the phone. "See you there, babe."

I hung up, and got ready. I even lit some candles (vanilla scented, because no flavor beats fucking vanilla bean). When he arrived, I opened the door and sarcastically greeted him, "Well, hi there!"

"Really, Gwen? _Really_?" he asked, grinning.

"It's better than shitty jeans and an ugly shirt," I said in annoyance.

"Yeah," he shrugged, and stepped closer to me. "True that."

Soon, he pressed his lips to mine and started unzipping my dress. Before he could get halfway, I stopped, smiled, and flirtatiously pointed towards my room. I recently hung up black curtains with a red comforter and black sheets, so it was newly introduced to the dark side.

I locked the door, and we continued our tomfoolery there. It advanced from kissing to stripping to fucking. Afterwards, I scrutinized my mum's dress. It was okay – no stains, no tears, and not even lint from the wood floors. I threw on some jeans and a white t-shirt, and put it back where it belonged. If my mom found out I wore it, she'd hang me from the balcony. And I'd rather not have the kids below us find the corpse next summer.

I came back and saw Duncan just texting, still on my bed. "Hey there, hon."

He looked at me and smiled. "Hey. What's up, hot stuff?"

I blushed, and started kissing him again. Soon, we was undressing me. Again. "Oh my _Jesus_, again?"

"Yeah, sure, why not? The wedding is in…"

"Philadelphia," I responded.

He enunciated, "Yeah, Philly. That's like, four hours of travel and four hours of the whole ceremony and whatnot. Eight hours. So why not spend it on something good?"

I smiled. He then added, "Besides, my bed is total shit, my parents are home and my cat's the devil. Your place is…quiet. And cozy."

"Yeah," I nodded. "My condominium is quite snuggly."

He smiled – amused – and resumed kissing me. We ended up screwing around again.

We spent our remaining hours talking, kissing, and prank-calling Courtney. Multiple times.

"Hello, this is Courtney," she answered, a Jonas Brothers song playing in the background. We got this Mister Rogers soundboard – so it sounded like the guy was calling her (we decided to go with Mr. Rogers rather than Stewie, because Mr. Rogers is just fucking creepy. And dead).

"_Hello there, neighbor!"_

"Uh…who is this?"

"_Can you help me find my kitty?_"

"Excuse me?"

"_Can you help find my kitty?_"

She hung up, but we repeated this usually after kissing a bit. When my parents were due home in forty minutes, he drove back home, but not before a long (embarrassingly sloppy) goodbye kiss.

Afterwards, I sighed somewhat dreamily, "I love you so much."

He smiled. "Love you, too."

And he left.

.oOo.

"Hi, Geoff…" she waved towards her boyfriend, who she hasn't seen in days due to busy schedules.

"Hey, Bridge!" he scooped her up, and hugged her tightly. His grip loosened, and she put on a fake smile. She liked him, a lot. But she just didn't…feel much for him anymore. Sure, he was a good kisser. Sure, they both loved surfing. But what else was there to talk about? It hurt her to know that it was the case, but she had to do something about it rather than lie to herself about their relationship.

"Hey, um…I'm kind of confused about…everything." She sighed. "Can I…can I talk to you tomorrow?"

"Uh…sure. Sure. I'll talk to you tomorrow," he let her go, and she climbed into her car to drive back home. To her dismay,

When she got back, she simply sat on her stoop, and thought about everything. Why the hell did she stay away from him? Why the hell are all of these feelings coming out now?

She looked up at the street. A familiar car pulled up. It was Duncan. He called, "What's up?"

"Oh, um…I'm reconsidering Geoff," she told him. "Why are you passing by?"

"Coming back from Gwen's," he got out of the car and sat next to her. "Why reconsidering?"

"No clue why," she replied. She then leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed, "I just don't know what the fuck to do, Duncan."

He held her closer to ease her. Soon, closeness provoked them to kiss. Only a small peck, but a kiss nonetheless.

And then they both knew that that time in the boat wasn't just an adorable little mistake.

After a pause of silence, Duncan simply went, "Uhm…"

"Uh…_God_, this is awkward…" she sighed.

Duncan simply got up and said, "Uh…I don't know what to do."

She paused. This didn't solve anything. It just made more problems. "Me neither."

"So, I'll see you later." He waved, and got in his car, his face burning from guilt.

She lightly touched her lips, and lied back down on the stoop. She thought for a few more minutes, and she came up with an answer. She didn't like Geoff anymore…_because she liked Duncan. _She sat up for a few minutes, trying to convince herself not to. Duncan was her best friend's boyfriend, and she _promised_ her that nothing would ever happen between them again.

She thought about him for a few moments. Although she was confused, angry at herself, and guilty, she felt herself blushing.


	10. Sneaking

.oOo.

Oh God.

He screwed up again. He screwed it up _again_. He had the radio playing at full blast as me mumbled to himself and texted Gwen at every stoplight. He dare not write any of this down, or tell Gwen. She said it herself – one more fuck-up and it's over.

Bridgette then texted him. Oh, God, what now? "_I think i kno y i dont like goeff._"

"_not now im drivin_"

Of course, the statement was hypocritical. He just didn't want to talk to her now.

School wasn't any better. Of course, everybody was in a cheery mood – school was out on Wednesday for winter break. When he got there, he talked to Gwen for a few moments in the hallway until she left to go to homeroom. Then, Bridgette approached him.

"Look," she sighed, and with a shuddering breath said, "I think I know why I don't like Geoff as much."

"Yeah?"he asked. "Why?"

She paused and whispered, "Because I think I like you."

He paused. Oh, no. Oh, shit, shit, _shit_, he really screwed up. "Oh…that's…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, you don't like me, you love Gwen. I heard all that bullshit before," she said. "I just wanted to let you know."

"Oh." He nodded, and she shrugged before leaving. He called after her, "Bridgette?"

She turned. "Yeah?"

"…don't break up with Geoff." He told her. She looked down at the tiled floor, and looked back up at him, nodding. "Okay. Thanks, Duncan."

"No problem." He shrugged, leaned against his locker to shut it, and skedaddled off to homeroom.

.oOo.

"This is so cool!"

I was in awe as Bridgette showed me the sunken boat. School was just released for winter break. Currently we were standing in two inches of water, and the scum at the bottom stuck to my flip flops, but I didn't care. This was _cool_.

"Yeah," she grinned, and started blushing. "Not to freak you out or convince you to like, burn this thing down or anything, but this is where Duncan and I kissed that once."

I paused. She had to bring it up. "No, it's fine. I'm over it. It was just a mistake."

"Yeah. A mistake." She then looked around, her eye locked on a glove box thing. I turned to her and smiled.

"Want to open it?" I asked.

"It's scummy." She said. "How do we open it?"

I shrugged, grabbed an oar, and jabbed the rusty thing open. We looked inside. There was nothing there. It didn't have to be cool, like a love letter from 1901 or the Heart of the Ocean or anything. I would've settled for corncob pipe – either way, it would technically be sunken treasure.

"It's just empty?" Bridgette asked.

"Well, that was a waste of time."

I then heard a car pull over on the bridge above, and a voice call, "What the hell are you two doing?"

I turned. Duncan was smiling looking down at us. "Duncan! Hey, hon!"

Bridgette quietly waved. I called, "Where are you going?"

"Your house," he responded. I supposed so, since there was nothing else in West Wildwood to do.

"Why? What were you planning on doing, sir?"

"Dropping off roses for you."

I blushed. "Aw! Really?"

"No." he snickered.

My smile faded. "Oh."

He started laughing. "Yeah, no, I didn't get you any flowers."

Bridgette called up, "We'll be up there in a minute."

She playfully added, "We'll race you to my house. You can pick her up there."

"You're on," he smiled, and hopped back in his car as we climbed over to the boat. Of course, Duncan was the clear winner, we knew that once we challenged him. When we got there, he was of course in the driveway.

I waved her goodbye, and climbed in his car. I looked back at Bridgette, who was already back in her house. She was quiet lately. It worried me. I mean, her and Geoff are doing fine…at least, I think they are.

I turned to Duncan and asked, "So where are you planning to take me?"

"Somewhere quiet," he said.

"How about that shitty beach with the crappy playground?" I offered.

"The one that probably has syringes lying around underneath the swing set?" (We believe that's where the druggies of the city hang out after dusk.)

"Yes, that one."

"Okay, sounds good."

I then pointed forward and exclaimed, "Onward!"

We drove to the beach and simply sat on the wet sand, looking out at the clear water. Of course, this was probably the cleanest part of the settlement – clean water, and lots of sea life, like crabs and all that.

It was so cliché. Yet so perfect. After some talking and kissing, we left and he stopped in front of my house. I looked at him for a moment, until we started gently kissing. I was half-expecting my dad to come out and spray the car with the hose to warn Duncan to stop gnawing at my face. To my relief, he didn't. However, afterwards, I whispered in his ear flirtatiously, "How about we go back to your place?"

He grinned and immediately started going back to his house. "My parents are out grocery shopping. We can stay upstairs all night if we're lucky."

"Nice," I smiled, and when we got home, we immediately rushed upstairs. "Awesome."

My night over was pleasant. Satin didn't come in, and didn't whine to, either. Sure, Duncan's parents called and offered dinner, but he just yelled at them, saying he wasn't hungry.

We kissed and had fucked and did all that delicious stuff until we simply fell asleep (door locked, because we're not stupid enough to leave it open).

I woke up at five o'clock in the morning. My dad left for his commute at six, so I decided I should go. I wrote a quick note:

_Merry Christmas Eve, love! But seriously, I had to go at like, five in the morning. Ha. So don't think I abandoned you like a hooker or anything like in the movies. Love you for…ever? Yeah, ever. Talk to you later. –Gwen_

I snuck out, and started walking home. Three-fourths of the way there, I stopped and looked forward, mortified. Holy _shit_.

I forgot my fucking bra at Duncan's. A few moments after, I shrugged it off. Meh, let the boy keep it.


	11. Runaway

After Christmas break, I had to visit my fuck-up, redneck cousins in some rural area of New Jersey. I left and gave Duncan a cute little kiss goodbye before leaving, and left Wildwood for hell.

.oOo.

A few days after Gwen left, he totally fucked up.

Apparently, when your parents find your stash underneath your bed – condoms, the notebook of unsent letters, and the bra Gwen left earlier – they kind of figure you're not a virgin.

After a huge argument, he clomped upstairs, packed up a suitcase that held his phone, a pair of jeans, a shirt, and all of that bullshit, he decided to flee the house. Of course, Satin – in an unexpected display of affection towards owner – latched onto his leg, trying to get him to stay. He calmly tore her claws off, and dropped his suitcase on the ground below. Then, he got down, and walked towards the nearest open motel.

It was a shitty place – the "Vacant" sign flickering in the dark sky. He checked in for a night with his Dad's credit card, and sat in his room, texting Bridgette and Gwen. Gwen was deeply concerned, and Bridgette was flipping her shit.

She called him and demanded, "Where the fuck are you?!"

"The Ocean View Motel," he replied without hesitation.

"Then stay the fuck there!"

"Fine, Bridge. Just don't tell my parents."

"No, no…but stay _right there_!"

He hung up, and waited around until a few minutes later, Bridgette rushed in through tears. Clearly, she was emotional about the guys she couldn't have. "Oh my God!"

"What?" he laughed.

"Are you serious? You're a fucking runaway! You look so fucking desperate! And _Gwen isn't even here_! What the hell tells you this is the right time to get out of your fucking house?!"

She sat directly next to him on the crappy hotel bed, still sobbing. He held her closer – might as well try to help stop her crying. After a few quiet moments, she calmed down, and he started kissing her.

.oOo.

Bridge never really saw herself with Duncan, the school badass. Of course, she knew she wouldn't be. He's totally in love with Gwen. Even though it was against all she believed in, he was impulsive. Maybe she can take advantage of it for one evening.

Her fingers then glided around his neck and started to gently tug at his shirt. He stopped kissing her for a millisecond to smile. She then pulled off his shirt, and he responded by unzipping her hoodie.

And, thankfully, that was the farthest they got.

They both knew they were lying, but she reassured, "We're just _friends_, right?"

"Yeah."

"Yup. Friends."

"Yes. Friends who get close to fucking every once in a while."

"Indeed. That's what friends do, Duncan."

.oOo.

I was sitting in the barn – the stable, I should say – texting Duncan. I was relieved – he decided to go home. I called him after my fingers got sore.

"Thank God you went back," I told him. A homeless boyfriend. That wouldn't meet my parents' standards.

"Yeah…" he nodded, and said, "now don't freak out about this, but Bridgette kind of stayed over."

I froze. Oh, no. He screwed up. _Again_. "What the _fuck_?"

He laughed. "Wow. _Not_ like that, sister…but yeah. Thank her."

"Ah. That's good," I nodded in relief, and asked, "so have your parents grounded you?"

"Yup. A week."

"Aw, that sucks."

"Damn straight," after a pause, he sighed, and said, "I'll talk to you later. Have fun with the cows."

"I won't," I said before I hung up.

.oOo.

He dialed up Bridgette. He need something to sort out. "Hey, Bridgette?"

He heard the smooth, calming sound of the bay in the background. "Hi, Duncan. What's up?"

"Well, we both know we can never work out."

"Unfortunately."

"Yeah…so, can we just, like…lay off? I want to stay faithful to Gwen and all that."

"Right, right. Same with Geoff."

"Yeah, so…yeah, that's it. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Bye-bye."

And so, he hung up.

.oOo.

"Duncan!" I exclaimed as I rushed up and wrapped my arms around his neck three days after I called him. "I'm so glad I'm back in civilization!"

My parents were in the back, unpacking everything. My dad called, "It wasn't that bad. Get over it."

I rolled my eyes, turned back to him, smiling that I was actually with somebody that I wanted to be with. "So how were your days as a little refugee?"

"Boring," he sighed. "I didn't want to live in a box so I rented a motel room…"

"Yeah, I know that," I said, and asked, "What else?"

"It's disgusting," he sighed. "I just decided to go back to my room where the place didn't smell like mothballs and expired cheese."

I laughed and asked, "How about we go to your place? I mean, I'm surprised your parents are letting you out."

"Not to my place," he immediately said defensively. "Uh…the Crab Castle. That place."

"Never heard of it."

"Well, let's go."

I told my parents I'm going out to eat, and we got into the car. I turned to him and asked, "Why not your house?"

"Because my parents aren't letting anyone up there but myself," he rolled his eyes. "Because sex is the deadliest sin, Christians don't fuck before marriage, blah, blah, blah. So if you ever want to go in my crappy 70's bedroom again, I'll probably have to sneak you in."

"Dammit," I sighed. I looked at him and asked, "So what's up with this crab place? You know I hate seafood. It tastes…icky."

He smiled roguishly. "You'll see why."

"Why?" I asked.

He was still grinning, and laughing a bit. "You'll see."

I sighed, and decided I'd do that. We got to the shack – up on high supports halfway out the water. It had decorative fishnet outside with a huge crab on top. Where it would've read, "Crab Castle", it had a huge white "FOR LEASE" sign, followed by a phone number.

I smiled. "Oh! I get it!"

We spent a while making out in the lot, until he asked, "Want to see if the door's open?"

"You serious?" I asked. He nodded, and we walked up towards the entrance. The doorways and windows were boarded up with weak wood. "Dammit!"

He smiled as if I were stupid. He kicked it down innocently, and stepped aside. The inside was disgusting. It was dark, lonely, and infested with cobwebs and possible rodents. "No, thanks."

He shrugged and on the way back down, he said, "Whatever."


	12. Mitzy and Ezekiel

"Damn," I muttered. My homeschooled, distant cousin Ezekiel was visiting with his sister, Mitzy.

"I can abduct you," Duncan offered. "Get you out of that."

"No, Mitzy's fine," he shrugged. "It's Zeke. It's the epitome of redneck, doesn't know what anything is. He's totally out of touch with reality."

"Hm," he bit his lip. "Want me to stay with you?"

"Your parents think we're sex demons," I sighed. "They won't dare let you over my house overnight."

He smiled slyly. "We can park in that crab place parking lot and sleep there?"

I sighed. "No…sorry, Duncan, I have to face this shit head-on. If not, my parents are going to kill me. They don't think I'm 'courteous'."

He shrugged, and parked in front of my house. "See you tomorrow. Good luck."

I smiled, kissed him adios, and went inside. I immediately saw Mitzy's red hair, and she was sitting on my couch. Zeke was sitting on the other one with his dad. They were both rednecks – these were the cousins I visited earlier – but Mitzy was the only one that attended public school. So thankfully, she was sane.

"Hey, guys," I smiled, even though I didn't want to. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Mitzy shrugged.

However, Ezekiel looked up and said, "Yeah…it's just a ceiling…white…"

I sighed, and Mitzy laughed. I opened my purse and spotted my camera. I had a picture on there – it was a picture I took of Duncan laughing one night (we got bored, started messing with the camera). I didn't have any other pictures rather than the ones on Facebook, so I might as well put it in my room. "I'm going to go print this picture out, okay? My parents will be home in ten minutes, so make yourselves comfortable."

I went to the office, and set up the printing process. Cherish these moments alone, Gwen, it's all you're going to get. After the picture was printed, I grinned, and framed it in my room. I then started reading a magazine, clipping out some pictures and tacking them on my door. Mitzy leaned over and looked at the pictures I was posting. "Vampire Weekend. Cool."

"Thank you," I said, not bothering to look back at the door.

I looked back at Ezekiel, whose face drained of all color. "V-vampires? I'm afraid of vampires."

Mitzy sighed. "No, you idiot!"

I smiled at Ezekiel's stupidity, and went back to posting up pictures. My parents soon arrived, and that's when I made a break for it. "Mom, I'm studying at Duncan's. I'll come back later, okay?"

"Okay, hon. Get something done," she said, emptying the groceries into the fridge. I immediately took that and drove to his house, avoiding every cop I saw (I wasn't going to get caught for driving with only a permit _now_).

I called him at one stoplight and asked, "Can I come over?"

"Sure, but can you meet me at the boardwalk?" he asked. "My parents are home."

I sighed, and dashed off towards the boards. We met near the casino (it only dealt tokens rather than money, so it was more like an arcade) which was closed. However, the Chips on a Stick (very thin French fries on a stick) was open, so we got two of those and just talked and walked on the boring, quiet boards for a while. We then decided to end the walk by sitting near the boardwalk on the beach. Soon, I was sitting in his lap, legs hitched around his waist, and we were kissing. I checked my time on my cell phone, and realized that I was supposed to be home thirty minutes ago. "Damn it!"

"What?" he asked.

"I have to go…"

"Back to Redneck Central?"

I sighed. "Mm-hm."

He frowned. "Damn…let's go."

We stood up, and I drove back home to the rednecks. My dad asked, "How much did you two study?"

"A few chapters," I shrugged, and sat down on the couch. I was about to strangle Ezekiel, who was asking about fifty questions per minute about _The Office_. I had to answer all of them because nobody else would.

"Who's he?"

"Michael Scott, the boss."

"What's that?"

"A copier."

"Wow, what's that?"

"For God's sake, Zeke, it's a shredder!"

After some TV, I went to my room. Bridgette dialed a few moments after. "Gwen!"

"Yeah?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," she sighed. What the hell?

"Why are you sorry? What did you do?"

She paused. "I like your boyfriend. A _lot_."

I paused for what seemed to be forever. I didn't know what to say or do. "…what?"

"I'm so sorry," she apologized again. "I really like him, and…I didn't want you to…not know."

"…did you…did you two kiss again?" I bit my lip, in case the answer was yes.

"No," she replied. "I dunno, I just…have a crush on him. I'm sorry."

I sighed. I didn't know what to say _at all_. I couldn't say, "Well you can't have him" or any of that bullshit. She's my damn best friend.

"Um, Bridgette? I'll talk to you later, okay?" I sighed. "See you."

And I hung up. Suddenly, spending time explaining to Ezekiel what a copier was seemed like a better way to spend my time. I sat back down, texting Duncan at every chance I could, and not bothering to answer Ezekiel's questions about everyday life. I wonder why Mitzy never _bothered_ to tell him how the world works outside of his fucking farm.

A few days later, they eventually left. I relaxed in my room, texting Duncan and begging him to come over. He agreed, and we began "studying" in my room.


	13. AC

"I'm bored," Duncan complained the next Saturday. After a moment, he asked, "Want to go to Atlantic City?"

That caught my attention. "What? To gamble or something, I mean _what_?"

"Gamble?" he laughed. "I can't pull off 21."

.oOo.

Ah. What a glorious day.

First, we simply wandered, not knowing where to go or what to do. Then we saw that Ripley's museum and walked inside. We skipped all the old stuff and skipped to the gore, like guys who lived after railroad spikes were jammed through their brains and people who lived after decapitation. We also checked out Vladimir the Impaler, aka my new hero. He was this evil ruler who punished people by sticking people on stakes like shish kebabs and drinking their blood. There was a life-scale diorama to go along with it. Unfortunately, the article to read about the wax model holding a goblet over a sea of corpses and bloody stakes was too far away to read without walking on the scrawny-looking wooden balcony. Biting my lip, I walked on and leaned in to read it. Suddenly I felt the thing tilt forward, and in response, I screeched. Duncan laughed. The thing was supposed to tilt you down as chilling laughter echoed. I ran straight off and muttered, "Fucking museum!"

We continued examining these cloaks with blood stains and comic books made with human ashes. However, the day spent of laughing at each other's pain and fright wasn't over.

There was a tunnel. It was a balcony going straight across, plain black. Nothing really special. But I saw the balcony was through a huge, spinning, illuminated tube. I shrugged and started calmly walking.

But Ripley pulled off another mind-fuck. I found myself gradually moving slowly towards the direction the tube was moving until I was pressed up against the rail, on the floor. It took me a moment to realize I was sitting on the dirty floor. Duncan's laughter was echoing through.

"Shut the hell up!" I exclaimed. Once I got to the end, I watched him cross. He kept himself oddly balanced. I stared in shock as he walked calmly across. "You fucking jackass!"

He smiled and said sarcastically, "I deeply apologize for being a fucking jackass."

Afterwards, we entered the arcade – machines full of stuffed two-headed cows and all of the oddities previously exhibited in the museum. As tempting as it was to spend four dollars trying to get one of those bastards in their rigged crane machine, we passed them by.

We started driving back to Wildwood, listening to Nirvana bootlegs from 1993 that Duncan's ex-misfit science teacher gave him after he graduated eighth grade. To be frank, I absolutely hated them. Even though he was truly talented, Kurt Cobain could not sing like he did in songs he recorded in the studio. He was absolutely wonderful at slow songs, but when it came to screaming, he couldn't quite cut it. I remember in the car, Trent used to talk about how Kurt was a guitar god, and that trailed off into the usual "Ever notice how Kurt looks like a blonde Jesus Christ?" conversation, which I absolutely loathed. It was like, "shut up, shut the _fuck_ up already."

I looked at the stereo. "He can't play fast songs for his life and yet he sold out arenas. And his fast songs are the most remembered."

A relief to me, Duncan didn't talk about Kurt as a guitar god. He simply smirked and commented, "He was worst at what he did best, and for that gift he should feel blessed."

I smiled, pleasantly surprised at his use of lyrics to describe its artist. "You are fucking _amazing_."

After the bootleg ended, we started searching the stations. It came up to "Surf Wax America" by Weezer, which I really wanted to keep playing. However, Duncan changed it.

"I like that song," I complained.

"Um, no thanks, not today, Gwenners," he said quickly. I looked at him with a suspicious expression.

_Gwenners_?

He turned on some Metallica song – I could tell it was Metallica because it was six minutes and forty-two seconds long. Believe me, I counted. I never cared for Metallica, or Led Zeppelin, or KISS, or Guns 'n Roses (whose sonofabitch lead singer, Axl Rose, by the way, told dear Kurt to "shut your bitch up", to which Kurt smartly replied, "Shut the fuck up, bitch.") or those bands everyone seems to be obsessed with. I preferred "Smells Like Teen Spirit" over "Stairway to Heaven" and "Say It Ain't So" to whatever song was playing now. I'm a nineties freak, and goddammit, I'll stay loyal to that title, and dare not drift into classic rock.

I sat in the car, pissed at the fact Duncan _refused_ to play Weezer. I didn't want to get totally out of control over this – it was a two minute song that I was about to flip my shit over. And if I ruined the relationship over a song that's as old as me, that would hang over my head for the rest of my life.

I got home, thanked him, kissed him, and left for the evening. Of course my parents were in questioning of where the hell I was the whole day. I replied, "Atlantic City," and nothing more. Of course, always jumping to conclusions, they started questioning me on whether I gambled or not, to which I didn't reply. Leave them worrying; that would be _hysterical_.

I sat in my room, texting LeShawna. She was the only nonjudgmental ghetto girl at school, and was friends with me no matter our status quo. It was nice. We talked about Duncan and how she didn't want me to date him. I ignored her, and quickly changed the subject.

The next day, Duncan and I visited the Target nearby. I was looking at buying a book, which was being sold for seventeen dollars rather than the usual twenty. Pricey, but I still saved three bucks.

"Well, fuck me backwards and call me Suzy, that's a good deal," I smiled and picked it up.

"Okay, Suzy," Duncan smirked, and I playfully flicked his forehead. I casually asked, "Do you like Bridgette?"

"Like like?" he asked. I nodded.

"I just want to know," I shrugged, and flipped through the pages as we descended down the aisles.

"I used to. Not anymore."

"Honest to God?"

"Honest."

"Okay, good. Are you okay with like, backing off of her? She still seems to have feelings for you, and…"

"Not at all. It's okay. Sure. I'll back off."

I nodded. "Thanks. I just don't want it getting too awkward between me and her. Thank you."

He shrugged. "No problem."

We walked towards the checkout line until he whispered some advice in my ear. I smiled, snuck off to the bathrooms and stuffed the book in my purse, in a secret compartment (behind the inside lining).

We strolled outside without paying a dime. But once we escaped the door we were cracking up at our heist.


	14. Pneumonia

**NEW POLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Vote Please! :D and look up alex evans! XD**

.oOo.

"Vote for Courtney!"

His ex-girlfriend was _adorably_ passing out buttons to whoever would take them. She approached him and gleefully showed him a button that, in patriotic colors with some stars added, read, "_Courtney for Student Body President_".

He took it and put it in the garbage bin nearest him. "No, thank you."

"Why not?" she snapped, wrinkling her nose in frustration. She clenched the buttons in her hand and balled her other one in a fist.

"First of all, you're my ex girlfriend. It'd be awkward voting for you." He counted his points of interest on his hand. "Second of all, I hate politics. And if I loved them like you, I don't think I'd be conservative. Lastly, I never _wanted_ the whole 'campaign trail' our previous relationship had and I don't know why you thought otherwise."

She glared and snatched another button from her hand, turning to the next student. "Vote for Courtney!"

.oOo.

I was sitting by my locker, reapplying my blue lipstick when Duncan approached me. "Little Miss Palin tried to get me to go on the dark side."

"The patriotic side? The side that'll want you to actually be an avid voter that pays all his taxes and supports _everything_ the government does?" I asked rhetorically. I rethought that, and added, "Well, Courtney's dream government, anyway."

"I guess." He shrugged, and walked with me down the hall. We passed Courtney again, who offered me a button. I snapped, "Save it, McCain!"

She tried to go after me, but I calmly walked down the hall. She didn't chase me, of course – she wanted a "positive image".

I went to Mr. E's after school for work as usual. Noah was once again being a dick as Bridgette and I were serving the ungrateful teenage population _and_ the too-generous elderly inhabitants of the town.

The usual suspects, of course – the town fatass, Owen, ordering a large soda and a huge pizza twist. Heather and Trent dawdled in, Heather ordering a petite salad and Trent getting a burger. Ah, stereotypical popular couples are so cute.

Twirling a piece of lettuce around her face and smirking, Heather sighed, "Ah, Mr. E's. A job worse than McDonald's."

"Ah, unemployment. A fate worse than obesity." I snapped back at her. "You can't afford your adorable little Coach bags anymore. Shame."

She glared at me, and I smirked as I walked away.

I switched waitressing for cashiering for a day. I disliked serving Trent and Heather – who was giggling at something Trent said. He was so shallow now that he hung out with the popular group.

After my shift, I spent the rest of the night with Duncan, as usual.

I sneezed, throwing a tissue into the wastebasket next to my bed. The tissue count this morning was probably just short of a billion. I caught pneumonia this Thursday, and I slept the whole weekend. I felt incredibly shitty, physically and mentally. Why? I promised Duncan that I'd go to this party Geoff was throwing – I wasn't much for parties, but I'd go anyway. And I'll have to miss it.

I wasn't sure if it was genuinely horrible, or a blessing in disguise.

But, either way, I couldn't attend. I felt totally shitty, but hey, that's life, I guess.

.oOo.

He simply leaned against the white walls of Geoff's house, sipping Coke innocently as "Telephone" blared throughout the place. It was an absolute mess, and he wasn't crazy about the shindig, either – all he talked to were Geoff and DJ, and he stayed far away from Bridgette.

The house wasn't really good, either – it was near a marsh, and it occasionally flooded. Besides, walk ten steps outside the back door and you'll be underwater in the grimy, murky bay. The difference between this place and Bridgette's was that her house was massive. And Geoff's was not.

DJ stood next to him and asked, "What's wrong with you? You're usually tearing the place apart by now."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I've had a lot of shit thrown at me the last couple of days, I guess I'm just…I don't know, serious?"

Geoff offered, "We'll put on rock music."

He shook his head. Music usually solved everything. But not now. "No."

"Metallica?"

"No."

"Hole?"

"Where the fuck did you pull Hole from?"

He shrugged, clearly gave up, and left. DJ soon followed. He shrugged, sat on the couch, and started texting. Surprisingly social, Heather sat next to him and asked, "You're quiet."

He shrugged. "Yeah, why?"

She innocently shrugged, and said, "I don't know, you're usually…louder."

He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you talking to me, anyway?"

"What? You can't hold up a measly conversation anymore?" she sat up, still smirking. "God, how times have changed."

She stood up, and he didn't see her for another five minutes until he glanced at the archway connecting the living room and the kitchen. Feeling oddly charitable, he stood up and leaned against the opposite side of the archway as she texted on her phone.

"You're acting strangely," he taunted her.

"Why?" she snapped.

"You're usually down someone's pants by now; what's wrong with you?"

A slight smirk played on her lips and she looked at the front door, sighing. "I'm probably going to break up with Trent."

Oh, _victory_. "Invite him over here. Break up with him in person."

She smiled. "I guess it's better than doing so over the phone, right?"

"Yeah. Besides, I want to record it."

"Only if you post it on YouTube."

Her unsympathetic behavior towards her boyfriend of a few months surprised him. Apparently she had no soft spot. For anyone.

"Agreed."

She dialed away on her phone, and he sat his ass back on the couch, awaiting for Trent. The story of the soon-to-be split fluttered across the party guests, and once Trent arrived, people immediately started taking out their cameras.

Duncan eagerly positioned his camera phone so it captured Trent's face. Of course, he was bewildered by the cameras, and clearly he saw what was coming.

"Trent, this just isn't going to work out," she said. She didn't even attempt to be compassionate with him, and a smirk was on her face the whole damn time.

Although he hated to admit it, some small fraction of him felt bad – he's been through two out-of-the-fucking-blue breakups under five months. But still, the heartbroken, shocked expression on his face was fucking priceless.

He closed up the video under thirty seconds so he could send it to Gwen. The party was getting boring, anyway, so he went back in his car, sent the video to Gwen, and went home. The party wasn't over for another two hours, but he went home anyway.

"Why are you back so early?" he dad asked as he channel surfed.

"Uh…tired." He lied, and rushed up the stairs.


	15. Matchmaking

**A/N: This will be the only time I will ever quote an abomination such as iCarly, brought onto me by random channel surfing – "I don't have a [boyfriend]…but I have a goldfish. *whispers* BUT WE'RE JUST FRIENDS." x3**

"Oh, thank God you're better."

After a week, I returned to school. The chill February air irritated my nose a bit, but other than that, I was perfectly fine.

"Why so excited to see me?" I smiled towards Duncan.

"There's nobody else I can stand talking to," he grinned.

Even though I was somewhat amused, I rolled my eyes. We looked over to Trent – the video was brutal, and all over Facebook. He was putting his books in his locker, looking very bored with himself. Heather simply walked past, with that everlasting smirk on her fucking face.

Duncan left for his class, and I decided to approach Trent. I said kindly, "I heard about you and Heather."

He didn't bother looking at me. "Don't bring it up."

I shrugged. "Okay, just trying to reach out."

I walked away. He was obviously still upset over the whole ordeal.

After school, I didn't have a shift at Mr. E's, so I spent my evening behind the supermarket slapping a tennis ball against the wall with a racquet. I didn't get all extreme with it, like running across the asphalt like some professional player. I stayed in pretty much one spot with a dozen cylinders of tennis balls at my feet (if you hit it too hard, the damn things will either go on the roof or bounce back into the marsh over the fence). I scurried off after the huge delivery truck rolled by to deliver whatever food they were sending. I walked back to my house, did a bit of schoolwork, and then I got a call from Bridgette.

"Geoff is persisting that we get back together," she said, sounding terrified. "I don't know how to avoid it."

The answer was obvious. "Date somebody else."

It was only _after_ suggested such a thing that I realized the error. She stuttered, "But…"

"Never mind," I sighed, and pondered over it for a while. "Trent's sort of…single…"

"Trent?! He's become _such_ a jackass ever since Heather got to him. Never."

"You can…put him in the right direction. He's very quiet ever since the breakup. He's strongly influenced by the people he dates."

It was true. When he dated me, he got into darker music and interests. He overcame his minor fear of blood and embraced the lovely substance. Then when he dated Heather, he became an egotistical asshole that started listening to more mainstream bands, and started wearing Hollister and Aero, one road that I would never go down.

"Maybe," Bridgette bit her lip. "Does he like surfing?"

"I'm sure he pays it no mind," I shrugged. "He could wrap his head around it."

"Okay, maybe it'll work out. I'll try to get him to actually be…normal again."

I smiled. "Good. Besides, I'd love to see Trent become his old rocker boy self again."

"Yeah. Thanks, Gwen, talk to you later."

She hung up and I looked out the window. I could see the top of Trent's house from here – a small, white house with a chain-link fence delineating the property. His sassy, Persian cat, Diamond, always sat on the porch, looking out at the boring street. His house used to smell like vanilla bean, but his room used to be so…predictable. So many posters covered the wall, it might as well be his wallpaper. His guitar was in the corner with a huge bottle of guitar polish and a rag (I was suspicious of that at first) on top of his grade-A amplifier. I used to always have to look at the floor, because it was usually covered in wires. Other than that, his OCD had him perfect every little aspect of his bedroom, including how all of the labels on his cologne bottles faced outward, and even the He also had a record player that could burn a record to a blank CD, with nine of his at-the-time favorites on top. I didn't take much interest in it – it was what I expected.

But Duncan's room was pretty cool. I expected it to have stolen Christmas decorations and other memorabilia from his previous crimes lurking around, with matches in his dresser drawers (I was partially wrong on that; they were lighters). But it didn't. I actually liked spending time up there. It had this 70's feel that I loved.

Then, I saw Trent leave his house, his hood over his head. I might as well try to get the two together now. I couldn't wait. I grabbed a jacket and put it on as I rushed out the house and into the chilly February air.

I soon met Trent and exclaimed, "I think I found someone you may be interested in!"

He looked at me, surprised at my sudden matchmaking offer. "Who?"

"Bridgette," I smiled. "She's really pretty. You two could get together."

He pondered over it for a while. "Wow, um…all right. Where does she live, anyway?"

I grinned. It worked! "Nearby. Come on!"

I sounded like an excited little girl dragging her distraught mother along to see that amazing toy in the kids' section. We arrived at Bridgette's house, and I excitedly started jabbing Bridgette's doorbell. She soon arrived at the door, and I left them alone to socialize.

Walking home, I felt like a matchmaker. Not the gypsy ones, but the old one in the Tamagotchi games from the nineties. Like, the match was _perfect_ every time, even though I doubted they'd date for long. But, they'd be happy. Bridgette wouldn't have (much of) a crush on Duncan, and Trent will be his old self again. I think I did a hell of a good job. I went home with a proud smirk practically tattooed onto my face.

.oOo.

"No, no, no," he begged. "Don't you _dare _invite them over; I freaking _hate_ them!"

Duncan was referring to his cousins. They were twins, and they were a peculiar pair. There was Anya, the sassy, ginger, future prostitute that he grew to hate along with virtually everyone else in the world. Then there was Izzy, the clinically insane twin that practically _lived _with her town's raccoons. She was absolutely terrifying. As a kid, he used to always lock his doors when she was around. However, she horrifyingly found a way in and annoyed him to no end.

He still did. But instead he shoved the dresser up in front of the door. And put his end table in front of the window. If that didn't keep her out, there was no telling what would.


	16. Arguing

I went over Duncan's house so he could survive his legally insane cousin and her twin, the probable prostitute.

I sat next to Duncan – his arm was around me, and I was blushing the whole time. Izzy the insane one was bouncing off the walls, talking faster than anybody I ever met. Anya was very still, but she spent the whole time fixing up her makeup.

In the middle of the conversation, Duncan said aloud, "You left your science textbook upstairs from a while ago."

Playing along, I said, "Oh, yeah…"

Walking up the stairs, I called, "Where is it?"

He followed me up the stairs and said, "Uh, I'll show you."

I went upstairs with him, and once we were inside, he shut the door and locked it. He then closed the blinds and grinned. The room was dim. "Might as well _try_ to get it dark."

I smiled and sat on the bed. He followed and started gently kissing me. Trying _very_ hard not to smile, he ran his hand under my shirt. Doing him a courtesy, I took it off myself, and he did the same with his. He had really good abs, but not the ridiculous ones you see on _Jersey Shore_. He surprisingly stopped kissing me to ask, "So, what now?"

In an act of absolute sluttiness, I flirtatiously grinned and started picking at the studs on his belt. "Oh, I don't _know_…"

He grinned devilishly. "Okay, with Izzy here, let me push the dresser in front of the door."

I stared, perplexed. "_What_?"

"Izzy can pick any lock. _Any_." He said.

I sighed, exasperated. I grabbed my shirt, and threw it back on. He leaned back, annoyed with my "quitting". I said, "That's going to take _way_ much too time. Meet me at that abandoned seafood place at eight, 'kay?"

He crossed his arms and shrugged. "Fine."

We walked downstairs, saying the textbook wasn't mine after all, before I finally left. The whole way back home, I was thinking about how amazing it was that one minute, you're absolutely in love with someone, kissing them, stripping yourself down, and the next, you're absolutely mad at them for no good reason.

.oOo.

It was after dusk, the tide was _really_ fucking low, and he was sitting in the sunken boat in the bay. It was right off this family's beach house's dock, so he hopped the chain-link fence and hopped in there. It would give him a place to ponder, but not somewhere totally obvious. He didn't really know why he came _here_.

Well, sitting by the water in an old boat was better than sitting in his car in the parking lot of a crab shack. He was there, with Gwen, but they didn't follow the original plan to have sex there. They kissed a bit, until he just decided to leave. He just felt stressed, with his cousins visiting, the drama with her _over_ no good reason at all, and schoolwork. Only school played a small, small role in this whole fiasco. He looked through the cracked, foggy glass of the boat to see the stars above. Maybe he would come up with some conclusion on what to do.

After a while, he heard the _swish, swish_ of the water, thinking they were just innocent little waves. Instead, he heard something hit the boat. Curious, he stuck his head out of the window, and saw Bridgette's silhouette.

.oOo.

She looked at him with utmost curiosity, confusion, and amusement in why Duncan was sitting in the old sunken boat. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He shrugged. "I just needed to get my thoughts out."

She shrugged a little, and slowly rowed herself towards the door. He helped her inside the boat, and she stood with him. He looked back at the sky. "I don't know. I need some_thing_ to take all this shit off my mind. I mean, Gwen and I got in a _pointless_ fight earlier, my insane cousins are visiting, and then there's failing and working at a McDonald's for the rest of my life."

She bit her lip. There were three scenarios.

She could be the responsible friend, the one that no matter what, would come to the rescue and help you solve your biggest problems once she heard them. She had an eye for problem-solving. Or, she could be the bitch. She wasn't really _supposed_ to be with him, after Gwen found out about their little rendezvous. Or, she could be the total slut and just kiss him already.

She looked at him, tripping over what to say. She had a slutty remark in her mind. She quietly debated whether to use it or not. But when he turned to her at just a right angle, where she could see his teal eyes shimmer. She decided to come out with it. "I…I may have something."

She thought he was run like hell because "he had a fucking girlfriend". Instead he raised his eyebrows, impressed with her obvious flirt. "Oh, do you?"

She blushed, and grinned. She slowly pressed her lips to his. Yup, slutty works. She _sloooooooowwly_ unzipped his hoodie, and slipped her hand under his shirt over his abs. She smiled, biting her tongue in intrigue. "I like your abs."

He smiled back. "I like your lips."

He did the same – his hand snaked up her shirt, unhooked her bra, and she responded by kissing him harder. Soon, they were sitting on the ledge of the door. Soon, they lost their balance, and they fell in Bridgette's rowboat.

Well, this was coming to be an interesting make-out session. After a few more moments of kissing, they looked up to see one of the neighbors with their lights on. Duncan laughed, "Oh, _shit_."

Bridgette giggled, and they both rowed off somewhere else. Duncan looked at her dark house. "Where are your parents?"

"My family is visiting my grandma for the weekend. My parents let me stay to housesit." She said, looking at the huge empty home. She noticed his smirk, and she picked up on it quickly. They both got out of the boat – still shirtless, except for Bridgette - and dashed inside. Once they got in her room, he grinned as he playfully slammed her against the wall and started kissing her again. She then pushed him off of her and onto her bed.

He looked at her and smiled. "Damn. You're _fucking strong_."

She smiled at his compliment until he caught her by surprise and flipped them over so he was on top of her. After the two got further and further, until they stopped before sex.

Even though it was inducing.


	17. Party

.oOo.

For the first time in forever, he didn't feel guilty about infidelity. Sure, yeah, it's wrong. Prior to last night's adventures by the bay, he used to beat himself up about it, come clean, and hope Gwen wouldn't fry his ass. But, due to the fact they were fighting, it didn't seem so…rotten.

Of course, Gwen was fine now. They've come to agree and understand their reason for fighting was childish and all-in-all ridiculous. Usually, when the couple hung out after he did something Gwen would get really mad about, Duncan would be the quiet one due to the extreme guilt.

Not anymore.

.oOo.

"You got a license!" I exclaimed, hugging Duncan. He turned seventeen this March, and passed the just-in-time driving test…which would be horrible if he didn't. He's been driving me around for the past six months.

"It's not that big of a deal. All it means is that I can _legally_ drive to get a fucking salad if I want to," he said, still holding me.

He grabbed his keys from his pocket and asked, "How 'bout it?"

I smiled. "Into the car!"

We ran to the car, shut the doors, and he turned up the radio. While we were talking and driving to wherever, he said, "Oh, we're opening our hot tub next week."

I stared. Duncan's uptight, overprotective parents bought a fucking _hot tub_? "You don't have one."

"You've never been in the yard. I'm not kidding." He grinned.

I stared some more. "They bought one?!"

He nodded. "Before I was born, yeah."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "That explains why."

He grinned, amused, and lightheartedly punched me in the arm. At the stop light, he checked his phone. Without taking his eyes away from the screen, he said, "Yeah…and like, two days after, they're going to visit my great aunt or something."

"The one that thinks you're a Satanist?"

"Yeah." He smirked. "So they're going to be gone for the night."

My eyes lit up. "Your parents are freaking _stupid_."

He put his phone down and started driving again. "Yeah. So I'm throwing, like, this massive party…"

I grinned. "Can I come?"

He smirked at my asking. "You don't have to ask, dumbass."

I smiled despite his insult.

……………………………………………….

The party was surprisingly fun. At first, everyone was simply conversing and all that. Soon, it became pretty much make-out central. Therefore, Duncan locked all of the doors on the bedrooms. If there was cum on his parent's bed, they'd flip their shit. And Duncan would be homicidal if there was any on his.

When I was walking inside to get a Coke, he poked me from the staircase. I looked up at him and smirked. I followed him up the stairs, and he unlocked the door. He shoved Satin out the door and mischievously shoved me on his bed and started kissing me.

I stopped to joke, "Might want to consider locking the door again."

He bit his tongue. "Riiiiiiiight."

He stood up, shut the door, locked it, and pulled his desk chair up to it. I smirked. We started kissing, and it, _inevitably_, we ended up fucking.

.oOo.

Being the health-fanatic she was, Bridgette swiped a bottle of water from Duncan's fridge and obediently sipped at it until she started snooping for him. She wanted to talk to him. Hear his voice, see his eyes, whatever.

She looked around until she turned to Trent, her new boyfriend. Her poor, poor, unsuspecting boyfriend. She flirtatiously waved to him, and then walked up to Geoff. Maybe he would know where Duncan was. "Hey, Geoff, did you see Duncan anywhere?"

Geoff shrugged. "I dunno."

"Oh." She nodded slowly, knowing that Gwen was gone, too.

The whores. They were probably fucking somewhere, she was certain of that. But it was tough to know that the one thing you want more than anything else – money, luxury cars, jewelry – can't be yours. Someone else genuinely better than you – better _for_ him – got him and is holding onto him.

She put the cap back on her water bottle and rushed out to her car. She sat in the backseat and decided to cry. Yeah, let it all out, so you don't break down later in front of a sea of camera phones and YouTube users. It's the best choice right now.

After a few moments of sobbing and wiping the mascara off the leather seats with her sleeve, Bridgette decided it was best to just leave.

.oOo.

After the whole shindig, he came down again with Gwen. After some conversation with people over, he glanced around. Bridgette was supposed to be here.

He found Trent and asked, "Dude, where the hell is Bridgette?"

Trent just stared back. "Uh…she left a while ago. Personal reasons, she said…"

Duncan just blinked. She _left_? What the _fuck_? And he knew damn well she didn't have a "personal reason" to do so. "She just…left?"

"Yeah. She's not here, her car's not out there, where else could she be?"

He shrugged off his concerned look and grumbled, "Never mind."

.oOo.

"So you set them up so Trent wouldn't be a popular dick anymore?" Duncan asked. He didn't seem to be so impressed with my matchmaking.

"Yeah, why?" I asked, turning to Trent. He was across the room, talking with the popular guys that just randomly showed up.

"It's not working." He stated the obvious. Bridgette's surfer attitude would rub off on him soon. He wouldn't wear Hawaiian shirts and all that shit, but he'd at least get some of her go-with-the-flow, relaxed attitude. That's what I hoped.

"Don't worry, hon. Give it time, he'll follow her soon."

After about another hour, the party was winding down and it was going to end in about…eh, thirty minutes. I had to go in five minutes. I found Duncan in the diminishing sea of people. I walked up to him and said, "I have to go…I'll text you on the way home, alright?"

He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me closer. "Mm-kay."

I smiled and started tenderly kissing him before leaving.


	18. Shocker

**A/N: For those who don't know – or even remember - GIR was the kickass robot/dog on Invader Zim. I have a GIR Shirt, GIR icon, GIR EVERYTHING.**

**MUFFIN ON A STIIIIICK!**

**  
**.com/images3/300W/i/2005/154/d/a/Gir_s_muffin_by_

A month afterward, April rolled around. The sky was a bright blue and the grass was a brilliant green. It was turning out to be a great day, and I did something I never would do – sit around in my favorite Gir shirt (because I love Gir with all my heart), listening to Boys Like Girls on my porch. Until Bridgette came running up to me, sobbing.

She was the last person I expected to sob out, "I fucking hate everything!"

I just blinked, speechless at her pessimism. "Why?"

She could barely make out the words. I handed out my phone for her to type it out. Perplexed by her behavior, I read the words as she continued to cry.

"_I'm fucking pregnant!_"

I stared some more. Last person I'd expect. _Last_. "Are you positive about it?"

She nodded. "It's horrible. I can't do this. Classes, my schedule, _everything_…"

"Did you tell your parents yet?"

She shook her head. I had to tell someone. Someone who I trusted completely. This was a huge secret to keep. "Can I tell Duncan? You can trust him."

She looked at me for a moment and nodded. "Can…can he break news to Trent?"

I blinked. "Oh my God. Trent will flip his shit."

Slowly nodding, she looked in the direction of his house. I grabbed my phone and hit "1" on my phone. "We'll _all_ tell him."

.oOo.

He was calmly sipping a Coke, reading some sheet music to try out on a guitar his dad found in the basement ("I used to play Beatles, Rolling Stones, Queen…but the playing interfered with my schedule, so I quit the music business forever…" _Bullshit_). He stopped after he fucked up a chord, took a sip of Coke, and retried it. His phone started to vibrate, and he caught it as it shimmied off the nightstand. He opened it, looked at the message, and thought it was one of Gwen's weird jokes.

Bridgette – the quintessential, athletic girl – pregnant? That was impossible. Besides, Trent would probably be too afraid to stick his dick in anything.

He called her back. "Ah hah, very funny. Now what's really wrong?"

He suddenly heard a sniffle in the background. Oh my God, it could be _legit_. "Ah hah, _not_ funny! She really is!"

He was speechless. "Is it Trent's?..."

"Yeah. Yeah, it is!" Bridgette spoke into the phone. "Don't you dare tell anybody, not a _soul_!"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course. Does he know?"

"No! Come over. Because I want somebody steady there. The neutral, heartless one." He could hear Gwen's smile through the phone lines.

"Is that a compliment?" he questioned, suspicious.

"Of course it is, I hate saps. Come over, as soon as you can."

"Sure. Love you; bye." He hung up, put the sheet music on the nightstand carefully and rushed into his car.

.oOo.

Bridgette stopped crying – oh, thank _Jesus_ for that – and we slowly walked to Trent's. I knocked on his door, and waited for someone to answer. We were all on edge, awaiting for Trent to either pass out or scream in response to the news his dear girlfriend was pregnant.

Trent opened the door, and before I even said "hi", I noticed the cupcakes still in their Shop-Rite packaging.

_Cupcakes_.

Before I could say "you knocked up Bridgette," or even "hello," I asked, "Dude, can I have a cupcake?!"

Bridgette stared at me, offended at my dying hunger. Duncan smirked and Trent said, "Uh…go ahead."

I gleefully walked inside and took a cupcake. After I finished my beautiful cupcake (made so much sense while wearing a Gir shirt at the same time, to be honest) I looked at Trent, then at Bridgette, then at the still-smirking Duncan again. Oh. Right.

I awkwardly say on his couch and said, "Uh, Trent…"

He looked at me, and Bridgette bit her lip. Duncan's smirk evaporated.

I couldn't tell him. "Uh, Bridgette?"

She bit her lip and grabbed Trent gently by his collar and dragged him elsewhere. Duncan and I just blinked at each other until she came back and said quietly, "You can go…thank you."

So that's it? She can do it all by her fucking self. Was our presence really a necessity?

I was almost out the door until Duncan grabbed a cupcake (ah, cupcakes) and said to me, "Let's get out of here."

Walking down the street, he usually stared at the dessert in a curious fashion, took a bite, and repeated the cycle. I looked at him and asked, "So, what are we going to do about Bridgette?"

Duncan shrugged. "I'm not really that worried about her. Her sitch could be worse."

"How worse?"

"She could be poor, have a crappy house, and Trent could leave her."

I looked at the sidewalk. "Yeah, that's true."

Duncan put his arm around me. "Hopefully she'll be alright."

After a moment of sheer silence, he asked, "How about she just aborts the kid?"

I shook my head. "She's always been against that kind of shit; she just won't go for it."

He nodded, and we walked back to my house to hang out a little more. I was fiddling with my fingers the whole time. I was mostly worried about Bridgette's reputation as the commendable, athletic student that can pick and choose any fucking college she chooses, since she has _all_ of the money, family, and love the world could ask for.

Now that whole description will just disappear. Once people notice her odd behavior and the fact she's pregnant, she'll just be the town slut.

To add, I was scared about how Bridgette's parents would take it. The die-hard Catholics would certainly not tolerate their daughter being knocked up.

I bit my lip, and then looked back up at Duncan. We were sitting around my house, watching TV with great indifference. However, I could tell we were both thinking about Bridgette.


	19. Meredith

**A/N: Ahahaha. Drama. XD**

"Meredith!" I grinned as Bridgette's cousin arrived. She had fiery red – almost genuinely orange – hair, with a zebra print headband. She wore a tight black corset with white lace and black-and-white striped fingerless gloves that stopped at her elbow. Around her neck – which had five small black stars inked on – was a silver crucifix. She wore a short skirt to match with fishnet leggings and black stiletto heels with a bow and a faux diamond in the middle.

Trent was inside with Bridgette, who was increasingly quiet and boring ever since two months ago when she found out she was pregnant. School was winding down as June came by, and we were currently taking our finals. Duncan, Trent, Bridgette and I told the school that Bridgette was only gaining a few pounds rather than having a baby.

I got up from Bridgette's couch and out of Duncan's arms to hug Meredith. "Oh, yay! You're here!"

She stopped hugging me and parted her over-glossed lips to grin. "Damn straight, bitch! I'm staying for the whole summer!"

She looked at Bridgette and smiled. "Besides, I'm here for Bridgette's little baby."

Bridgette blushed and Meredith asked, "Boy or girl, dear?"

She shrugged. "We're not sure. I'm going to hopefully find out next month."

I gleefully sat on the couch and introduced her to Trent, and lastly, Duncan. I put my head against his chest as he smirked and started to gently stroke my hair. I pointed to Duncan and grinned, "And this is my boyfriend, Duncan."

Meredith beamed and turned to Trent. "And you're her boyfriend?"

Trent grinned, his arm around Bridgette. Then she playfully nudged him. "And you're the father? The little scamp's pop? The baby daddy?"

His smile lessened. It was either her lighthearted cracks or the reminder that he's having a son he wasn't expecting. "Yeah."

She smiled. "Sorry…I'm a jokester."

She looked around and asked, "Are your parents here?"

Bridgette shook her head, and Meredith exhaled in relief. "_Oh_, thank God."

She fished a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket – she was an underage smoker – and lit one with her disposable lighter. Bridgette covered her mouth and pinched her nose. "Excuse me!"

Meredith looked at her stomach and bit her lip. "Oh. Riiiiight."

She walked outside, lighting her cigarette there. Trent squeezed Bridgette's shoulder and said, "Hey, I'm going to go outside."

Bridgette eyed him. "Don't bring in any damn fumes."

He beamed. "Promise I won't."

.oOo.

He walked outside to see Meredith struggling to light her cigarette. He sat in front of her and asked, "Can I get one?"

With her unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth, she dug one out of her pocket and handed it to him. "Sure. You smoke?"

He looked at her and smiled as if she was clueless. "Meredith, I'm a budding musician. Of course I do."

A flame finally erupted out of the lighter. "Oh, thank God."

She lit the cigarette, occasionally tapping the ashes onto the concrete. "So, are you…excited about having a kid?"

"I guess…I mean, it's not like, 'Wow! Hooray, kids,' it's more like, "Oh my God, _kids_…'."

She nodded, understanding his predicament. She flicked some ashes off of the end of the cigarette and put it back in her mouth. "Just do me one favor, Trent."

He looked up at her. "Yes?"

She poked his chest and growled, "Don't you _dare_ leave my cousin. For anyone."

She put out her cigarette and walked back inside the house, leaving Trent dumbfounded. One minute she's nice as hell, and the next? She's eyeing him like he's the devil.

He shrugged, and finished his cigarette.

.oOo.

He stared, blinking at his parents, who were wearing the sternest expressions possible. He persisted, "No. No, no, no."

Due to his "bad behavior" (consisting of sex, crimes, and "drugs", even though he never did any in the past…eleven months) over the course of his school year, his parents were sending him off to North Carolina. For the whole damn summer. To stay with his cousins. Sure, the house was spacious, by the beach and pretty much the best house ever built. But his cousins were not. Izzy was going to be there…so was Anya…and the little brat Steven.

"Yeah, um…no, no, no." he protested. "I'll be fine here. I'm not in prison, I'm actually going to twelfth grade. I'm _fine_."

But the decision was final. 3 months of _shit_. He stretched, got up from the couch, and decided to go tell Gwen now. Personally.

.oOo.

I was sitting in my backyard, watching the neighbor's kid as he was out at work, when I saw Duncan awkwardly approach the backyard. I beamed, and immediately rushed up to meet him. "Hi!"

He looked at me and bit his lip. "Hey."

I tilted my head. "What's wrong?"

"Uh…" he took a breath and said, "My parents are practically shipping me off to North Carolina for the summer."

I blinked. After a minute of comprehending all this, I yelled, "_Nooooooooooo!_"

I continued complaining. "You can't. You can't. But if you just 'have to', you fucking better come up here once in a while. Or _I _will go down _there_. Because I can't spend all of my time with Bridgette with her fucking kid, or Trent with his fucking emo nonsense!"

"I will, I will," he shrugged. He then smirked. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to come back as some model kid."

He then hugged me, and I said through his shirt, "Your parents are stupid."

.oOo.

He woke up from the long, seven-hour car ride to North Carolina. The house was massive – three stories – and it was by the beach. School ended only two days ago.

He grabbed his duffel bag from the blue trunk of his aunt's car and asked, "So this is it?"

"Mm-hm," she answered, walking inside. He walked inside the first floor, and to one of the two guest rooms. The one he chose had a double bed, a TV, and the only power outlet that wasn't masked by a dresser. He immediately plugged in his phone to text Gwen and DJ, and turned on the TV. He didn't make through five minutes of _The Simpsons_ when Izzy ran inside and immediately sat on his bed in under a second. "Hi! Oh my God, you're _here_! Wow, that must've been a _looong_ car trip! So how've you been? What's up?"

He merely blinked. This was going to be a very long summer.


	20. North Carolina

**A/N: "Should Bridgette's baby be a boy or girl?" "50% = Transgender". Fuck you guys. XD**

Well.

It's my first week without Duncan. I got out of bed, put on some sweat pants and a T-shirt, and walked around West Wildwood. Once I got out of my house, I looked at the neighboring house. It was _still_ up for sale. The woman who used to live there died a year ago, and so her son put it up for sale. Nobody bought it yet.

After about two hours of wandering around town, I came up to the house again. I was shocked to find a moving van in the driveway. I was even more surprised as I watched the truck driver open the van, and a scrawny emo kid climbed out and brushed his jet-black, straight hair out of his face. He smiled, causing the snakebites on his lip to glisten in the sunlight. He brushed his hair out of his pale blue eyes and wiped his dirty hands on his black skinny jeans.

A small Nissan car then drove up and parked along the curb. A woman – no older than forty – exited the car along with a little curly-haired girl.

"Thank you for sitting in the van, hon," she kissed her apparent son on his forehead. He brushed her lipstick out of his bangs and frowned.

"Please don't do that again," he mumbled. I blushed at his voice. He looked sixteen, but he was _adorable_. I went against my stereotype of being anti-social and asked, "You new?"

He nodded. "Yeah. My name's Alexander Starr. And you are?"

"Gwen Traynor," I answered. It then hit me. It was summer. He was amazing already, what if he was only staying for the summer? "Are you here for the summer only?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Mum's opening a record store on the boardwalk. The store's open year-round."

My eyes lit up at the words "record store". I smiled when I heard he's staying here year-round. "Nice."

He asked, "You stay here for the summer?"

"Yeah, yeah, I live here all the time…" I grinned. Maybe this summer will be…better.

.oO_Duncan's Perspective_Oo.

"I'm going out." I called as I opened the front door with my uncle's car keys in hand. It caught my aunt's attention. "What? Found friends already?"

"No," I called back. God, I've been trapped in his fucking house for only three days. Of course I haven't met anyone. Is she stupid? "I'm going…for a drive."

"Oh, alright…fill up on gas, would you?" she asked. I shrugged, and told her I would.

Probably wouldn't.

I only took four steps out the door when I turned to my left and saw a girl with black hair, a blue shirt, cargo pants, and a stupid smile on her face. She was on her front lawn, listening to some pop song that I hated already, while tanning. Apparently, I caught her interest. "Oh! Who are you?"

"Duncan?" I absentmindedly answered. I pointed back to the house. "Their…nephew."

I dug my aviator sunglasses out of my pocket – the sun was strong here – and climbed into the car. I plugged my iPod in the dock, and played "FiveNinety" by blessthefall at the loudest possible volume. She watched intently as I pulled out of the driveway. Honestly, this was the creepiest moment I had since coming to this shithole.

I drove around for hours, randomly looking at merchandise in stores. It was like a huge Wildwood – most of them were tourist shops. My eyes lit up when I saw poppers – those little paper balls filled with gunpowder or something – that made a miniscule explosion when they hit the floor. Unfortunately, I lacked the bottle needed to make a bottle bomb. I bought the shit anyway and threw them onto the floor. They didn't even explode.

Assholes.

Bored, I went shopping for vinyl. I didn't see anything worth my money. Once in the car, I got on Facebook Mobile. I got a friend invite from some Sierra Altair girl. Who the hell is that?

I opened up her photo album. After scrutinizing a few photos, I recognized Sierra Altair as the girl next door. I spent a moment wondering how the hell she knew exactly who I was. I realized I gave her my first name, and she found me from my uncle's last name (he had the same last name as my dad). So, she put the puzzle pieces together.

I got back home. To my liking, she was gone. I eased myself into the house and into my bedroom. Of course, living in this ghastly household reinforced the fact that I had to expect the unexpected. I walked inside my room and immediately was taken back when I saw Steven – the evil little brat I wanted to strangle – peeling dry glue off his palms. I glared at him until he looked at me and exclaimed, "What?"

"Get your ugly gluey fingers out of my room, 'kay?" I demanded. "Now fuck off."

He glared. "Why should I?"

"Because I can beat your ass inside out. Now _get the fuck out_." I growled through my teeth. He gave me the evil eye, then left, still peeling the glue off of his fingers.

I could not tell anyone how much I want to strangle that kid in words alone. He was a gross kid. I hated being his cousin. I hated being on the same _property_ as him. Once I was totally alone, I immediately picked up my phone, turned on my computer, and talked to Gwen for a few hours. She was trying to get down here in two weeks. Hopefully her parents would coincide. This place is a living nightmare and I need somebody I can actually stand in order to survive.

She better get her ass down here soon, before I lose all sanity.


	21. Visit

**A/N: Do me one favor – write a brilliant fanfic with all the drugs, sex and swearing you want. But please don't make that the **_**only**_** shit in the story. And give it a good title, not something ridiculous like "Duncan's Heroin" or something. Short accounts of one-night stands are the only stories I get when I look up Rated M. But **_**please**_** put some other element into it. Thanks, ya'll.**

I dropped my bags on the floor of this massive house. I was in North Carolina as I promised Duncan a couple of weeks ago. My parents were staying in a nearby hotel, and promised to "check in often". Surprisingly enough, they allowed me to stay with him for the week. Usually they went against sleeping over a guy's house in any, any circumstances.

The house was a huge place. I immediately took notice to the screen door way in the back of the place – it was a few dozen feet beyond the front door, past the _wide-screen TV and Wii system_. Duncan opened it for me as if it were no big deal. I took slow steps through the amazing, straight-out-of-the-catalog backyard. It was mostly concrete – no grassy areas of sunshine or anything. Where I was standing, it was underneath the huge deck above. It was pleasantly shady. The hot tub was placed here, too, along with the grill and outdoor shower. Past the small gate lied the huge, in-ground, crystal-clear pool that I was so envious of (the closest we got to a pool was the neighbor's kiddie pool that flooded the yard every time they emptied it out). Past _that_ was a small wooden bridge that led you over the sand dunes and to the _beach_. The fucking beach. It wasn't even a public beach. It was a long, empty, private beach shared by the houses going along the coast.

This was paradise. I never, ever saw a house as glorious as this. Duncan passed it by as "nothing much". Even though I know for a fact that we both hated the beach and the sun, I have to admit, this house was absolutely amazing.

I led myself out to the beach, while muttering to myself, "This place is so fucking awesome."

"Not really, you get tired of it after a few days." Duncan interrupted me. I shook my head. It was impossible to get tired of this place. I mean, the first floor of this place was games and shit. The second floor was bedrooms, but they also had a nice sitting area and _hammocks outside_. The third floor was the kitchen, living room, and office space (aka, where the router is).

My room was right next door to his on the first floor – my room consisted of only two twin beds, with a small TV on top of the dresser. I put my suitcase on one and lied down on the other as I got myself situated. Duncan and I spent all the time possible by ourselves and away from his cousins – Anya was sitting on the couch texting some jock (or so I suspected), Izzy was probably out doing some crazy shit, and Steven was sitting on the computer, burning his eyes out while playing Tetris online. So we spent our time sitting on the beach, catching up on stuff and kissing occasionally.

I followed Duncan into his clean, pristine white room (totally not him at all). I sat on the bed and asked, "Do you like it?"

He sat next to me and put his arm around me. He simply replied, "No."

I grinned and laid my head on his shoulder. "I miss you. I fucking hate New Jersey."

"I fucking hate North Carolina."

His parents couldn't force him in North Carolina. I bit my lip. "Can I kidnap you and bring you home?"

He grinned. "Please."

After a very short silence, he asked, "How's Bridgette?"

I thought about her. Trent had an impromptu proposal – which she oddly refused. It wasn't like, on-one-knee. It was just an innocent question ("Since you're carrying my kid and all that, maybe we should get married?" "No, thank you, Trent."). But other than that, nothing much has changed. She's of course been having pain-in-the-ass mood swings, but she's happy. Even though she's also nervous and scared for the future, she was still in high spirits. I think it's mostly due to the fact it's summer, and Meredith was staying for three months. The girl hardly visited. "She's doing good."

I sat in the guest room. It was dark, and I lied on the bed, eyes shut. I couldn't fall asleep for some reason. I look at the door. A little sliver of light was under the doorway. I sighed, and tried stuffing my face into the pillow. Then, my phone vibrates. I naturally expect it to be Duncan – I get a _lot_ of texts from him – but it's Alexander (the emo kid next door).

"_So how's the Carolinas, dearie_?"

I answered back, "_all right_", turned my phone off, and tried to sleep yet again. I turned to the light underneath the door. With Duncan directly next to me (room-wise)…it was very tempting to just go next door.

So I did – I simply got up, opened the door, and shut my eyes (the light in the hallway was irritating).

With my eyes still closed (the following was a challenge), I stumbled to the light switch that turned off the low-hung light over the pool table (yes – they have a _fucking billiards table_). My eyes relaxed, and I proceeded to go next door. The room was dark, but I could barely make out the outline of the bed. I simply sat there and said, "Hiya."

"Hey." He said it plainly and clearly. I expected it to be rather drowsy, because it's about eleven o'clock, and the day was pretty fucking long for me. Clearly he's been up. In a somewhat teasing manner, I lied across his chest and asked, "So. What's up?"

"Not much." He held me closer. "Just waiting to get out of this hellhole."

I smiled, sat up, and kissed him. I missed his presence back home. I missed the feeling of waking up and immediately grabbing the keys to hop on over to his house. I missed hearing his voice talk to me _directly_ and not through a phone line. Plus, I missed not having to naturally glare at his parents every fucking time I see them gallivanting through the supermarket.

Milk the week for all it's worth, Gwen, because it's all you're going to get for a while.

**A/N: Plus, for a specific "fan", shut the fuck up. im not updating cuz, guess what? my already 1/2-bionic mother is getting fucking surgery and im failing half of my classes. the economy is taking a toll on my family, and you dont need to know the rest. why? because i dont care if i "'lose a fan". id rather deal with my mother, my father, my failing household and my PREGNANT BEST FRIEND are taking a huge portion of my time away. I'm not asking for sympathy. I'm asking that the real "fans" (or so you call yourself), to stick through thick and thin. This is a difficult time for me and the last people I'm going to deal with are assholes on the Internet. So STFU.**


	22. Brid

**A/N: It's so relieving to be back writing. After a week of drama and rushing through ****Scat****, I've found time to write. Phew. Enjoy. The next chapter may be due in 1-2 weeks, giving I haven't started it yet o.0**

**Plus, I'm grounded for being practically illiterate when it comes to Algebra I.**

The next evening, we spent the day simply gallivanting around the property. First, at about nine (we left our rooms as the rest of the house was in their rooms), we spent thirty minutes on the hammock talking and occasionally kissing until we got restless. After that, we sat on the beach – it was quiet, unlike the loud beaches back home – for an hour. Then he shoved me into the ocean. I spent the short walk back up to the house pouting with wet sand all over the right half of my body as he quietly snickered to himself about it. I sat on the dark, cold concrete near the warm, heated pool, wiping all of the sand from my arm onto the floor. I soon pushed myself into the pool. Duncan took my place sitting by the side.

I eyed him from the water. After a moment of silent glaring, I quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him in, causing him to scream, "_Shit_!"

I laughed at his reaction and his hair, his mohawk now limp and lifeless. His face was dull and expressionless. I smirked. "Now we're even."

He half-smirked in return, and kissed me. Between kisses, he made the colossal mistake by saying, "I love you, Brid—Gwen."

I immediately pulled myself away from him and snapped, "BRID—?"

"Brid—? It's fucking freezing…brr." he quickly protected his mistake. He clearly almost said "Bridgette".

"Oh, yeah," I mocked him. "So cold. Brid…you dipshit!"

It may be an overreaction, but he admitted to cheating on me with Bridgette before, and I was nice enough to let that shit pass by. I made my way over to the steps leaving out of the pool. I shook the excess water off of my body and ran my hand through my hair, then ringing it out like a towel.

He turned around, leaning on the concrete wall of the pool. He asked, "Come on. Are you okay?"

I grabbed a towel, walked back towards Duncan and poked his forehead with my big toe. "Clearly not. Can't keep your girls straight?"

I walked away. I don't know, I was merely moody. I could tell in his voice that he was offended by that particular comment. "She's fucking pregnant! I haven't even hung out with her in months!"

"Alright," I shrugged, brushed myself off, and walked inside. The rush of the air conditioned air chilled my skin and caused me to shiver, but I ignored it and stumbled to the guest room through the dark.

I got into my pajamas and lied in my bed. Ater ten minutes, I felt hot breath on my arms.

It was Duncan begging. "Are you _serious_? It was a mistake. A fucked up mistake. I'm _sorry_."

I yawned, buried my face in my pillow and requested quiet. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Alright?"

He sighed and stumbled out the door. I called after him, "Can you shut the door?"

To Duncan's credit, he did as I asked. The rest of the night went smoothly. Of course, once I woke up and thought everything over, I ultimately decided to forgive him. After all, Bridgette does have better feelings for Trent, anyway. And she's not a two-timing kind of person. It was just a stupid mistake I have to let go.

I walked to Duncan's door and sat down, leaning on the door itself. I lightly knocked, to which he replied, "Uh-huh? What?"

"I'm sorry for exploding," I called.

There was a short silence, and the sounds of sheets ruffling. I waited patiently until the door opened, causing me to fall flat on my back. I looked up at Duncan, who was laughing hysterically. I turned a shade of red that I seriously doubt is on the color wheel. "Hiya."

He stopped laughing, yet as he was helping me out he was clearly still snickering. I walked to his bed and sat down. He asked, "So what? Are you going to sleep with me again?"

I looked at him quizzically. "I just woke up."

"It's five-thirty in the morning." He told me. I was wide-eyed. God, I hated waking up four hours before my normal wakeup time whenever I was at someone else's house. Whenever I stayed at Bridgette's, or even at my relatives' homes, I always woke up at sunrise, or even before.

Still staring at the clock I said, "Yeah, I'll stay here. Sounds nice."

I pulled the comforter back, smoothed the sheets and lay there. He followed my lead. After a moment of silence, I turned to him and plainly came out and said, "I love you."

I never said it that plainly unless it was after or preceded by a kiss or some sexual favor. He turned back to me and smirked. "I love you, too."

I smiled, shut my eyes, and fell asleep, regardless of the now-peeking sun.


	23. A Day with Alexander Starr

**A/N: I lost my USB. So I have to rely solely on memory/Fan Fiction. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-**

The rest of the visit was relaxing, yet uneventful. I ended the vacation by hugging Duncan for what seemed like an eternity. The ride home was just as boring as before. It wasn't even scenic or short in anyway. Seven hours of constant texting Duncan until my phone died out.

I arrived home. My muscles were stiff, and felt like the best thing to do was to leave them static forever. I couldn't, though. Once I got off of the car, my mom threw my suitcase into my arms. I stumbled backwards a bit, until out of almost nowhere, I saw Alex run up to me yelling, "Gwen! Gwen! Gwen! YOU'RE BACK!"

His hair was messy and he was wearing sweat pants and a baggy shirt – it was Saturday, his "lazy day" – and wrapped his arms around me, pretty much constricting me until I begged, "Alex, Alex, goddamn. Let go."

He quickly let go and calmed me, "Alrightsy, put your stuff back."

I nodded, dashed inside, and put my bag down. I left my poor parents to clean the rest of the car as I talked to Alex. I don't know how it became, but he's one of my closest friends. Maybe it's due to the proximity of our houses, I don't know. He looked in the direction of the bridge. He slicked back his hair, making it somewhat presentable. "Do you want to go to, I don't know, um…somewhere anywhere but here?"

I nodded. "Sounds nice. Let me get my purse, 'kay?"

He put his hands in his sweatpants pockets, kicking the loose pebbles in the driveway. "Take your time."

As I rushed up the stairs, he called up, "I lied. Get your ass down here soon."

I grinned, and fixed myself up before dashing back down the stairs. He grinned at my arrival and said, "Now let us shoo!"

Alex's old-time talk made me smile every time. We walked past the small bridge that connected West Wildwood and the mainland. Of course, this is where he noticed the sunken boat in the bay that makes me shiver every time. Not because of it's despondency, but because of the thought of Duncan and Bridgette there.

Leaning on the concrete bridge and looking through the chain-link fence, I solemnly watched as the gentle waves crashed against the boat. "You know Duncan?"

Alex turned to me and asked, "Your boyfriend?"

I nodded. "And Bridgette?"

"The pregnant girl?" he asked, and I nodded again. Alex never really knew or talked to Bridgette, therefore he _always_ referred to here as "the pregnant girl".

I looked back down at the boat, my eyes following the crack on the left pane of glass. "Duncan cheated on me in there. With Bridgette."

"Gross."

"I know, it's really…algae-y and gross-looking in there."

"No, dumbass. I mean it's gross that he cheated on you."

I looked at him and grinned. "Thanks, Alex. But I'm still dating him. Clearly."

He knew this forever, but he still seemed taken by surprise. He continued to slowly walk, and I joined him. "Why would you still go out with someone that hurt you so much?"

I shrugged. We walked to a small park in Wildwood. It wasn't exactly a "park". It was a small lot, enough to hold maybe a shed and some lawn. There were a few flowerbeds, and the ground was covered with pebbles. The ducks occasionally hung out here, too. He lied on the green bench, with a small plaque on the back. I sat on the other side, playing with his hair. Why? Because it was soft as hell. I told him about how I avoided Bridgette for a time, too. He looked more confused.

"So. You're still dating the kid who hurts you the most, yet you avoid your best friend." He started picking at his nails.

I looked across the bay, tilting my head at a weird angle in order to look at Bridgette. I always felt a tinge of guilt and worry because of the pregnancy thing. Now I felt even more.

"I guess." I sighed. Alex sat up, and I fixed his hair as he said, "I never really met Bridgette."

"I think she's home. We can visit now, if you want." I offered, and we started walking to Bridgette's.


End file.
